


First Day of My Life

by happymaybe



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Aged-Up Otabek Altin, Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Angst with a Happy Ending, Casual Sex, Cheating, Divorce, Lack of Communication, M/M, Minor Character Death, Otabek Altin is a lowkey fuckboy pass it along, Shit ton of OCs, Time Jump, Winter Olympics, past relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-01 21:04:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10930005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happymaybe/pseuds/happymaybe
Summary: Few months before the 2026 Calgary Winter Olympics, Otabek Altin drops a fucking bomb to Yuri Plisetsky's carefully planned, calculated life of a bystander.





	1. Chapter 1

Yuri probably got the call when he was finishing on the bank and his phone died while he was on his way to his dinner meeting. Anyway. It’s already past 11 and he finds himself swearing under his breath as he listens to the voicemail.

“Yura,” Otabek’s voice doesn’t falter. “Thought I’d let you know first – we talked. We’re going to get a divorce. Hope your Monday meeting with the committee went well.”

Typical Altin. Dropping a bomb then brushing it off, making his usual pleasantries. It’s unnerving to most, even Yuri himself took some time realizing that Otabek Altin is always genuine to a fault.

Yuri doesn’t call him back immediately. No text messages either. He leaves his phone charging and goes through his routine; his mind jumping to denial stage.

While in the midst of multi-tasking of flossing and reading through the latest paperwork for the Games, he remembers his assistant, Agnes, nagging him on his list of guest for their passes and – _oh_ –

He feels a drop in his stomach.

“The kids! Where are the kids?” He nearly yells at his phone. Yep, there you go. Anger stage.

“They’re… fine. They’re with Lana.” Otabek answers after two rings.

Yuri blinks, trying to control his shaking and the jarred mess of his thoughts. “Are you guys still going to the Olympics? I allotted four passes to you and – are they – are they staying in Canada?”

He needs to know. This is important. Not just for the passes but because he promised Yana a trip to Florence after the Games and Ali would be starting pre-school and a change this sudden –

“Yuri, it’s okay.” Otabek cuts him. Seems like Yuri’s been complaining loudly. “We will sort it out.” Otabek’s voice is low, rumbling and this should make Yuri stop and consider the red-hot fury simmering in his guts but he’s beyond feeling sorry for him.

“We just contacted the lawyers earlier.” Otabek continues, his voice steady. “We still haven’t talked about the kids and the living arrangements.”

Something snaps in him. Something almost forgotten and decade old has resurfaced and seared its ugly head. Yuri sees red. “God dammit, Altin. You asshole. Fuck you and Lana!”

It’s been peaceful – he has settled on his role. There’s a goddamn script and all the medals and accolades Yuri has accumulated over the years did not prepare him for this bomb.

“Fuck the both of you. The kids do not deserve this.” He hangs up and is this close from blocking Otabek’s number – his unabashed concern on the welfare of the kids only stopping him from doing so.

Next day, he cancels his morning meetings and afternoon training and went shopping for the kids. He sends Yana and Ali a care package of snacks and sweets, an unpractical Dolce and Gabbana set of floral dress and leather bag perfect for Yana’s age, and the most obnoxious and expensive Power Wheels he can find for Ali. Otabek fucking hates it when he spoils the kids and Yuri is done with him.

He calls Otabek’s parents and asks them to regularly update him with how the kids are doing. He also sends Olga, the kids’ long time nanny, some Bath and Beyond package and shopping money because she’s been their rock and she too doesn’t deserve this shitstorm from Mr. and Mrs. Altin.

***

It’s been three days and Yuri’s calling it a victory. Otabek only tried to call him twice; he knows Yuri too well.

Yuri doesn’t have time to console Otabek – or whatever is needed from him. He doesn’t have the bandwidth.

But of course, midway through his 11:00 am meeting, his phone vibrates:

_I’ll be in Moscow by 3. I’ll come by the HQ around 7._

Yuri allows himself to feel a half-second warmth but it’s been a decade. Too long. He knows the game.

He doesn’t reply.

***

Otabek knocked up Lana when they’re both 21, and the news broke right in time when Otabek won Gold at Worlds. The skating circuit called it Atlin’s Double Golds. Kazakhstan went into frenzy. Lana and Otabek never confirmed they’re dating. Well, they can’t.

“You knocked up the Prime Minister’s daughter?” Yuri is almost impressed, whistling as he scrolls down his twitter feed. They’re hiding in one dark corner of the hall, the banquet in full swing. There’s a buzz in his ears but he is not tipsy enough to ignore the unnamed twist in his guts.

“Yeah.” Otabek says, scowling. “But before she was the prime minister’s daughter, she was just someone from my circle of friends.”

Yuri knows Lana. They have met twice but they’re always with the rest of Otabek’s friends. Otabek having casual sex isn’t news. Yuri should _know_. Otabek dating Lana is.

“What, no condom? She wasn’t on pills?” Yuri pockets his phone, keeping his voice light.

Yuri just came back from an injury from a bad fall that rendered him useless in the Grand Prix Series. Coming in bronze in Worlds should make him feel triumphant, his confidence soaring with pride as he successfully overcame with what his pesky, overworked and abused muscles have thrown at him.

Yuri Plisetsky feels nothing like that tonight.

“No – seems like she wasn’t. It – it was very casual.” Otabek looks very pained saying that.

Yuri glances at the other. Otabek doesn’t look like father material with that undercut and industrial ear piercings. But what does Yuri know? His vague concept of fatherhood is molded by the media, and, to his personal horror, the general existence of Yakov.

“So, now what? Shotgun spring wedding? Am I invited?”

Otabek looks back at him, “Yeah.”

Yuri doesn’t know which of his questions Otabek just confirmed.

Everyone who has spent at least half an hour with Yuri knows that he is nothing but false bravado, and he knows most people tolerates him. Sometimes the anger is a result of the right blend of his emotional constipation, traumatic family circumstances, commitment issues, and general assholeness. But right now, the betrayal feels so utterly genuine he doesn’t know how to process it. He’s stumped to be quite honest.

He downs two more flutes of sparkling wine, uncharacteristically silent as he goes through some kind of existentialist crisis, before Otabek moves closer and bumps his shoulder to Yuri’s.

It seems all familiar.

“Hey, let’s get out of here.” Otabek says gently, his eyes soft and Yuri wants to assume it’s apologetic but for all he knows Otabek could have been chugging down these cheap sparkling wines for the past three hours and he’s simply better at pretending to be sober.

Yuri looks Otabek in the eyes. There’s an air of finality tonight.

“Yeah, sure. Let’s go.” He says, swallowing all intelligible reason on why he shouldn’t.

***

Sure enough by quarter before seven, Agnes sent him a chat message:

 **Zubarev.Agnes** : Mr. Altin is here

 **Zubarev.Agnes:** With 3 large luggage

 **Plisetsky.Yuri:** tell him im in calgary

 **Zubarev.Agnes:** Sir, he just gave me some chocolates.

 **Plisetsky.Yuri:** im your boss

 **Zubarev.Agnes** : Sir, Mother Russia is my boss

 **Zubarev.Agnes:** Also, he also offered me a job. He said his company is looking for an office manager

 **Zubarev.Agnes:** Oh

 **Zubarev.Agnes:** he’s not wearing a ring???

 **Zubarev.Agnes** : Sir???

Out of spite to both Agnes and Otabek, Yuri replies to all his emails, archives his inbox, and actually jots down David’s off ice training regimen for next week when he’s in Calgary. It’s almost nine in the evening when he steps out of the boardroom he’s been cooped in for the past seven hours.

Otabek is sprawled out on the couch in the lobby, reading some magazine; Agnes’s work station is vacant. Yuri raises an eyebrow at him.

“Are you done fuming?” Otabek asks as he stands up. There are three gray dented Rimowa right next to him.

“I’m fucking hungry. Buy me dinner, asshole.” Yuri spats as he walks out of the door, not waiting on Otabek.

***

“You are wearing a suit on a Thursday evening and you have a laptop bag. I’m impressed, Yuri.” The asshole says, smirking as they settle on their seats. Yuri asks for this particular table. It is smacked right in the middle of the restaurant. Yuri is confident that at least a third of the patron tonight recognizes him and, by extension, Otabek. He doesn’t care if the news of the divorce has already been leaked and this asshole’s reason for flying to Moscow is to avoid the media. Yeah, Otabek Altin is here. Come and fucking eat him, vultures. He deserves it.

“I’m working for the government. Stop projecting your corporate slavery kink to me.” Yuri glares. “How’s business? Bankrupted any mild-mannered middle class father recently?”

“My company is perfectly legal. We are into online gaming.” Otabek recites curtly like he has already said it couple of hundred times.

“There’s no perfectly legal enterprise whose business is into gambling whether it’s fucking online or not, especially in this side of the continent.” Yuri spats, undeterred. He knows this is a sore spot. It’s almost worth the piercing glare he gets from Otabek.

The waiter comes with the menu and Yuri focuses on the wine selection. He cannot deal with Otabek sober.

“What’s with the luggage anyway?” He asks when curiosity gets better of him.

Otabek hums, “Turns out Lana’s renting out the condo. I thought I’d see you first before I checked in to some hotel.”

Yuri gapes at him. “What the fuck? You didn’t know she’s renting it out?”

Otabek shrugs, flipping through the menu. “It’s under her name.”

Otabek orders for the both of them. His familiarity of Yuri’s dietary plan is annoying the nerves out of Yuri.

Yuri closes his fists to stop himself. No, he’s mad. No, Yuri, don’t. Shut up. “You can stay with me.” He grits out when the waiter finally walks away with their orders.

“Are you sure? You look constipated just saying that.” Otabek smiles at him. Yuri kicks him under the table.

“No, you jerk. I’m still fucking mad but I can’t let you stay in a hotel. Grandpa will fucking haunt me. I can still be mad at you from within the comfort of my own place.”

Otabek, the fucking asshole, actually laughs. “Sure, Plisetsky. Whatever keeps you asleep at night.”

“Yuri, I need to ask though,” Otabek starts, few minutes into their silence, after the waiter comes with their food, “Will Michiel be okay with me staying? I don’t know until when I’ll be here.”

Yuri stabs his perfectly innocent grilled Salmon. “Michiel doesn’t get to say anything on who I want to stay in the condo I fucking own.”

It’s Otabek’s turn to raise an eyebrow at him. “But is he in town or - ?”

“Can you just fucking drop it, okay?” Yuri doesn’t look at Otabek. He doesn’t trust himself.

***

“Why the fucking divorce? Why now?” Yuri asks when they’re finally pulling into his allotted parking space. He’s looking out the window. There’s not much to see. The parking is dark and empty.

Otabek’s been driving. Yuri’s too plastered. And besides, if the asshole is gonna leech off his electricity and food, he could at least chauffeur Yuri around.

Otabek drums his fingers in the armrest between them after he pulls the hand break. “This isn’t new. It’s a long time coming, Yuri. You know that.”

Yuri almost breaks his neck when he snaps his head to glare at him. “Don’t you fucking – ”

Otabek shakes his head. “Sorry, no. Let’s – help me with my luggage please. Let’s talk upstairs.”

Yuri shoves the Rimowa he’s been pulling in the hallway the moment he kicks his door open.

“Make me some tea.” He calls out to Otabek as he trudges to the living room, toeing his shoes off, and falling into the couch face first.

Otabek doesn’t say anything but goes straight to the kitchen.

“Yuri, your tea selection is fucking disgusting.” He hears Otabek comments. There are some telltale sounds of running water, and some cups clinking.

“Fuck you, Altin. You are only here because I like your offsprings. You are fucking dead to me.” Yuri yells from where he is sprawled out.

Yuri moves his aching body and blinks up at the lighting fixture. He’s no longer drunk. He regrettably sobered up during their eight-minute walk from the parking to his unit. But sometimes it’s easier to pretend to be one.

“What changed?’ He asks, a bit louder from what he has intended.

Otabek places a cup of tea on the coffee table in front of Yuri.

“We finally both want out. She – she found someone.” Otabek settles on floor, his back against the couch.

Yuri refuses to look at him but he sounds exhausted. Not just because he came from a four-hour flight.

“Does this ‘a long time coming’ decision has anything to do with your father-in-law passing away six months ago?”

It was all over the news. Former Prime Minister Minshikov succumbing to an aggressive lung cancer. Yuri went to the funeral.

From the corner his eyes, he sees Otabek runs a hand through his hair. The top is longer now. Couple more inches and Otabek could probably pull of a manbun.

“It’s not just that – ”

“Because what the fuck do you want from me?” Yuri tries to even out his breathing. “I won’t console you. I don’t care if you lock yourselves to a loveless marriage because the both of you are fucking cowards to Lana’s father.” Yuri’s closed fists are shaking, he feels the familiar numbing digs of his nails to the soft flesh of his palms.

“But I fucking care about the kids. This is an important period for them. It’s Yana’s formative years. And you both have been in this situation four years ago – ” Yuri stops. No, he’s too sober to go there. No.

Otabek turns, kneeling in front of him. “I know. We fucked up. From the very beginning – ”

Yuri quickly stands up and walks over Otabek’s kneeling figure. “Fucked up? You want to talk to me about fucking up?”

“Me,” He stabs a finger to his own chest, brim of tears threatening to come down, “Still letting you fuck me during that night in the banquet ten years ago even when I know you are getting married is fucked up. Me assuming we had something more than being fuck buddies is fucking ignorant of me, and this – ”

Yuri gestures to the both them, hands flailing. “This is fucked up. I stayed because I love your kids. There are days I hate that I do. But it’s not their fucking fault they got you as a father. You are shit at it. I just - god I love Ali – but god, why did the two of you got another kid if you will only – ”

“Yura – “ Otabek moves forward to him.

“No. You don’t get to fucking touch me anymore.” He storms off to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted the first 300 words of this work early January this year with the intention of leaving it as it is but since the fandom has given me so much joy these past few months, I thought why not pick this up again and give back.
> 
> The first three parts have already been written out so updates should be regular.
> 
> Let me know what you think and if there's any glaring typo / error.
> 
> i'm sheldilocks at tumblr, come yell at me about YOI.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri gets a visitor and there's an awkward small talk in his kitchen.

There are messages on his phone when Yuri wakes up. He reads them with one bleary eye open.

 

 **OTABEK**  (6:07 AM)  **:** In case you wake up before I get back, I went out for a run                                                                    

 **OTABEK**  (6:07 AM)  **:** Sorry I took the extra key from the side table                                                                                     

 **OTABEK** (6:08 AM) : And a blanket from the linen closet                                                                                                    

 **OTABEK** (6:10 AM) : There’s coffee in the machine                                                                                                             

 

Yuri flips over, groaning. He’s not due to the rink until tomorrow. David will be back from Toronto tonight, after two weeks with his choreographer, and Yuri could use two more hours of lie in – no, make that 30 more hours. He’s not particularly tired but the past few days have been a sick out of body experience for him and Yuri is entitled to mope around if he fucking wants to.

Yuri is in the midst of overthinking himself into a panic attack when his phones vibrates again.

 

 **MICHIEL**  (6:34 AM)  **:** hey :)                                                                                                                                                  

 **MICHIEL (** 6:34 AM) : dinner tonight?                                                                                                                                   

 

Yuri stares at the dark stain in the ceiling for a good ten minutes.

 

Through sheer discipline ingrained by years of competitive skating, Yuri finally crawls out of his cocoon of shame and regret, and steps out to the living room. Otabek’s luggage are neatly piled in one corner and there’s a folded blanket on the couch. Yuri almost feels bad letting him sleep on the couch. Almost.

The coffee in the machine is still warm and Yuri’s dying indoor plants seem to be recently watered.

By 7:20 AM, Yuri is already out of the condo.

There’s a note on the refrigerator door.

 

_coffee’s shit_

_have dinner plans tonight so you can use the car. i’ll uber._

_car keys in the hallway_

_the other room is yours_

_stay_

\- Y 

***

Yuri’s been half expecting him already. Maybe he also knows Otabek too well. Maybe they are just both predictable assholes.

Agnes knocks to his door around lunch time, “Mr. Altin is here.” Her voice higher than the normal.

"Stop. You are embarrassing yourself, woman.” Yuri stands up, pocketing his phone and wallet.

“Sir, I thought you liked me.” She trails after him.

Yuri replies evenly, “I really don’t, Agnes.”

She starts dusting his suit, “Sure, Sir. I believe you.” She says with a tone of someone who absolutely does not.  

“Now, go along. Enjoy lunch. No more meetings for the day. You just need to review the accommodation budget and send it to Finance before 4:00 PM and you are good to go on a date tonight as well.”

And because Yuri strives to ruin certain expectations from him: “You will be glad to know that Michiel will be picking me up.”

Agnes smiles back, undeterred.  “I _am_ glad. At least I know you will get laid tonight one way or another.”

 

The small café across the OCR’s HQ serves the shittiest sandwiches and salads. The air conditioning has been busted for the past 19 months that Yuri’s been coming here. Yuri’s pretty sure the establishment has at least a dozen health violation but hey, where’s the fun in life if you are not at risk of e coli with every bite of your salami sandwich.

Yuri throws Otabek a blinding smile, baring his pearly white teeth. “My treat.” He says magnanimously, handing Otabek a sad looking Nicoise salad.

Otabek actually breaks into a small smile, “Thanks, Yuri.”

It’s been, what? 13 years? Give or take? He has known this asshole for 13 years and sometimes Yuri is lulled into a false sense of familiarity but no, Otabek would come back in full force as a fucking mystery.

Otabek looks blissful eating that wilted lettuce.

“Listen, about last night,” Yuri starts and he’s already regretting this lunch. Actually, he’s regretting everything he has done to his life until this moment.

"Do you want to talk about it?” Otabek asks, frowning.

Yuri shuts his eyes for a moment. “It’s not about us. I – you’re a jerk. I’m not going to apologize for pointing out the elephant in the room for the past years – this is not about us. We can drop it – I don’t care, Beka. I’m done with that.” Yuri fights to keep his gaze steady.

Otabek flinches at that. He opens his mouth to respond but Yuri beats him to it.

“But last night, I was wrong.” Yuri breathes, his chest heavy and tight. “You are a wonderful father. And I – shit – it was shitty of me to say that you are not. I don’t have the highest opinion of you as a husband and you fucking know that. But, Beka, I have been there since day one.”

Yuri remembers that night in the hospital’s nursery and Otabek looking to Yana, a tiny bundle of pink and warmth, absolutely besotted.

Something else has happened that night. Yuri remembers warmth blossoming in his chest at the sight Otabek crooning at tiny, beautiful Yana. It was then Yuri had accepted that…. He’s okay with this. Right next to Otabek as he builds his own life with his new family. He would be fine. Yuri would take what would be offered to him. He would earn the right to be with them.

“And I know you adore those children. Yana and Ali are lucky to have you as their father. Lana isn’t that bad either –”

Otabek reaches out and curls his fingers around Yuri’s shaking fist. “Yura, you’re rambling.” Otabek squeezes his hand, his eyes suspiciously wet.

Yuri shuts his mouth, biting his lower lip, eyes locked with Otabek’s unwavering gaze. Otabek’s thumb gently traces his knuckles and then he squeezes Yuri’s fist one last time before letting go. Yuri releases the breath he didn’t know he’s holding.

“Asshole.” Yuri spats but it’s without heat.

 

Otabek walks Yuri back to the office. They haven’t said much to each other after that word diarrhea of non-apology that Yuri did. However, Otabek keeps opening doors for him and hovering around him like he wants to do something so scandalous like touching Yuri’s shoulder.

Agnes grins at them when they walk into the lobby. “Good lunch, Sir?”

Yuri pointedly ignores her. Otabek on the other hand is taking a photo of the large Olympic Committee of Russia signage on the wall.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Yuri asks. Otabek could be a fucking a weirdo sometimes.

Otabek angles his phone, taking few more shots. “I noticed it yesterday and I really like the material they used. I’m sending it to our contractor.” He pauses, clearing his throat. “I haven’t mentioned it to you but we are opening offices here.”

Yuri blinks at him. Yuri Plisetsky is an idiot. Yuri got distracted by the divorce, the kids, and their fucking past, and he missed this. Everything’s been just a fucking red herring.

“Here? As in Moscow?” Yuri splutters.

Yuri has managed to keep his sanity all these years because of the distance. This – this is not how it supposed to go. _Holy fucking –_

“And St. Petersburg, probably next year.”

“Is that why – ” Yuri knows he is almost yelling so he drops it to a low hiss, “Is that why you are here?”

Otabek nods.

Agnes follows their volley of conversation with rapt attention, ignorant of Yuri’s internal turmoil. “Wonderful news, Mr. Altin. Seems like we will be seeing more of you. Should I request for a parking space? An access card?”

“Oh, can we do that, Yuri?” Otabek looks fucking delighted.

Yuri’s still blinking at him, tranced out. “Jesus. No, you fucking can’t. You are not Russian and not a part of the Olympic Committee of Russia. We don’t have enough parking space as it is and we don’t have budget for access cards and why the hell do I need to explain this to you!”  Yuri trails off, inhaling a mouthful of air.

Yuri raises his palms up. “You know what, I’m done. Bye, Otabek. Agnes, you are fired.”

 

Few hours later Yuri steps out of his tiny makeshift office, passing by Agnes in the reception who is surprisingly busy for someone whom Yuri just fired.

“Didn’t I just fire you?” Yuri drops two manila envelopes in the out-going stack.

“Not my boss.” Agnes sings cheerfully, as she continues sorting out some paperwork. Too cheerful for someone who needs to be fired.

“Have nice evening, Sir.” Agnes calls out to him as he walks away. “But not too nice. You have whole day training tomorrow. We don’t want the Assistant Chairman of the Commission of Russian Olympic Committee for Athletes be limping in his home rink.” 

*** 

Yuri immediately seems him. Michiel is smoking, his lower body leaning against his parked Audi. Yuri wonders how he manages to not get towed every time he illegally parks right in front of the building.

Only when Michiel touches the tips of his shoulder length hair did Yuri remembers they haven’t seen each other in three weeks. “You cut it.” Michiel asks as a greeting, voice gentle as always.

“Yeah.” Yuri runs a hand through his hair.  He still gets conscious whenever people comments on it. “It got tangled up so I just cut it.

“You don’t like it?” Yuri lifts an eyebrow at him, challenging. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t need your validation to feel pretty.”

Michiel laughs, his eyes behind those black rimmed glasses are bright. “I know. I like it, I was just surprised.” He throws his lighted cigarette to the ground and stubs it with the heel of his shoes.

Yuri rolls his eyes, “Well, come on. Get me out of here.”

 

Their usual place is closed for a private function and that leaves Yuri’s shaken for umpteenth time today. Their usual bar has an amazing caviar platter and he was lowkey craving for it for the past couple of days.

Yuri loathes change in plans. To be precise, Yuri loathes change. Full stop. He’s fucking terrible adapting to it.

So it’s unsurprising that he is in the brink of throwing a very inappropriate tantrum for his age when Michiel nudges him to the pub across the street. “Come on, I think they have a rooftop lounge in there.” Yuri follows with only mild grumbling.

It’s still early so they’re able to snag a cozy corner table in the rooftop. Yuri glances around. They might not stand out as the few other early patrons all seems to be suited up as well but there’s always a high chance they’ll get recognized.

“So what did the firm say when you were able to close that Belazi deal?” Yuri asks as he chews on his salmon blini. He can’t make himself order caviar. It feels like he’s cheating on their usual bar.

“Oil and gas is not too good recently so I don’t know. I should be happy but I’ll only know for sure after my meeting with some insiders next week. Risks too high so we need to change our strategy. ”

Yuri looks at him. Michiel is still insisting on maintaining that short stubble. In the dying cast of summer sunset, he looks amazing.

“Hmm. Is that fancy words for saying you will need to do some under the table shit to save your portfolio?”

Michiel snorts to his beer, laughing. “I told you hedge fund is a perfectly legal form of investment.”

“Woah,” Yuri says, teasing. “Why are you all so defensive? This is the second time I heard that excuse since yesterday.”

“Oh?” Michiel raises his eyebrows. There’s a shift in the tension. “Is Otabek in town?”

They have been at this for far too long. Michiel has recently been good at reading him. “Yeah, he is.” Yuri shrugs, trying to pass off indifference.

Michiel nods, his face unreadable and his voice steady. “Is he with the wife and kids?”

Yuri curses under his breathe, grabs his beer and drinks half of it. “Nope.” Yuri says, wiping his mouth with back of his hands “They filed for a divorce. He’s staying at my place.” Just rip the goddamn band aid off.

Michiel leans back to his seat. “Okay. I think it’s my time to say _woah_.”

“Yuri, you could have told me. We didn’t have to meet tonight if he’s here…” He trails off, looking absolutely confused.

Yuri can’t help but make a face. He probably should have told Michiel about Otabek but everything has been too much. He feels likes he’s an exposed nerve, ready to explode, and he just needs to stop thinking about Otabek and the possibility of him being _available_ and in Yuri’s city of residence for an indefinite time.

Yuri’s a bundle of nerves that needs to be sedated. Yuri glances at the other, giving a deliberate once over.  Yeah, a good kind of sedated.

“So what? I want to see you.”

Michiel narrows his eyes at him, totally oblivious to Yuri’s attempt to steer this goddamn terrible discussion away from the painful. “Is he – or are you both – ”

Yuri sighs loudly. “Michiel, please. No, it’s not like that. Can we – it’s been weird couple of days for me, alright?”

“Enough of him. And besides…” Yuri drops his voice, his gaze to Michiel dark. For good measure, Yuri tucks some of his unruly long fringe behind his left ear, letting his fingers slowly trace the skin behind his ears to the side of his neck until he cups his chin, resting his elbow to the table.  

“It’s been weeks, Michiel. I really, _really_ need to get laid.” 

***

“Are you sure this is a good idea? Isn’t Otabek staying here?”

Michiel is standing in the middle of Yuri’s bedroom still fully clothed. Yuri on the other hand is shamelessly naked and hard.

“Yes, yes, shut up. Get naked.” Yuri growls as he unbuckles Michiel’s pants and shoves his hand inside. Good. He’s hard.

“Mmmm. It’s been a while.” Yuri drags Michiel by the wrist to sit on the bed. He drops to his knees as Michiel finally gets in the program and starts undressing. Yuri helps him tugs off his pants and boxers.

Yuri pumps Michiel’s cock for a few times before licking from the underside to the slit, sucking off the precum. Michiel hums, running his hands through Yuri’s hair. “You’re so pretty, Yuri. So, so fucking pretty like this.” He murmurs as Yuri sucks of the head, his tongue dipping to the slit.

Yuri pulls off, licking his lips. “I’m sure you say that to all your fuck buddies.”

Michiel leans forward and cups Yuri’s face, his thumb tracing Yuri’s lower lips. “Only to the Olympic gold medalists ones.”

Michiel is good, so good to him. He fucks Yuri hard and relentless with Yuri on lying on his back.

“So good. So fucking good.” Yuri tells him, mewling. Yuri doesn’t typically mewls but right now he doesn’t care because _oh fuck_

“Oh yeah?” Michiel moves, lifting Yuri’s lower half up by the tight grasp on his waist and pushing his knees upward. Yuri still got it. He’s still fucking flexible. His open legs dangle off to the either side of his chest, with Michiel practically sitting on him as he pounds on Yuri hard.

Yuri gasps loudly at the new angle as he can feel every inch of Michiel inside him, pushing and pulling and there’s a burn. A good fucking burn.  “Oh shit yeah  - hey, touch me.”

Michiel smirks at him before grasping his cock, and pumps it on time with his own thrusts. He thumbs Yuri’s slit and Yuri almost blackouts. “Fuck! Fuck yeah oh god – ” With half a brain working, he clasps a hand over his mouth.

Shit – Is Otabek home? Did he hear the door open earlier –

Michiel shoves Yuri’s hands away from his mouth. “Yuri, are you thinking of another man right now?” Michiel punctuates his question with a particular long, slow thrust that makes Yuri’s toes curl.

“Ah – no, fuck!” Yuri gasps, shaking his head as he tries to put a semblance of coherency in his thought other than the feeling of Michiel’s warm cock inside him, and sweet burn whenever he hits Yuri’s spot.

With one hand still tightly grasping his hips into position, Michiel pins both Yuri’s hands above him with his other hand.

Yuri feels so open and dirty as Michiel looms over him, his glasses still annoyingly perched over his nose.

“Come on, Yuri. I want to hear you.” Michiel commands. He is impossibly hard inside him and Yuri keeps on mewling at every long thrust. He can feel his orgasm building as he starts fucking himself back to Michiel’s dick.

“Don’t stop yourself.” Michiel whispers to his ear. “I know you want him to hear you too.”

Yuri screams when he finally comes.

*** 

Of fucking course, Otabek is up and drinking coffee in the kitchen when Yuri steps out of his room the next morning.

It seems that Otabek just finished his morning run as he is in full running gear while Yuri feels shit wearing a thin, old shirt and boxers.

“Morning.” Otabek greets him, standing up to pour Yuri coffee.

“Uh, thanks.” He says when Otabek hands him the cup, standing close to him.

Yuri’s growth spurt when he was sixteen was the disappointment of the century. Lilia has trained him hard day and night so he’d able to maintain his flexibility when the inevitable growth spurt would happen. It did happen but it was just couple of inches. Then, it meant secured podium finish for Yuri for the next couple of seasons and that’s generally a good thing but right now with Otabek staring at him on the same eye level, Yuri feels impossibly small.

“Uhm just so you know Michiel is – ”

And because Yuri’s life is a single-camera sitcom, right on fucking cue Michiel steps out of his room.

He’s wearing his suit from yesterday. It’s creased out but he carries it well, like it was meant to be creased all along. Michiel makes walk of shame so fucking easy.

Otabek doesn’t move from his spot; Yuri is rendered useless.

“Hey, morning, Otabek. It’s been a while.” Michiel says as he grabs one of the mugs from the drying rack. “Do you mind I steal some of your coffee?” He turns to Yuri, grinning.

“Knock yourself out.” Yuri finally manages to open his mouth. He’s still standing awkwardly in the middle of his kitchen, between two fully dressed men.

One looks well-rested after a night of good lay. Which he did. Yuri is proud of his handiwork. And the other one looks... well… Yuri bits his lip as he stares at Otabek. He has wiped off most of the sweat from his face but his neck and arms are still glistening with sweat. He’s flushed and looks warm to touch.

“How’s business?” Otabek asks Michiel as he finally steps out of Yuri’s personal space and goes back to his spot at the end of the breakfast bar because of course, they’re both polite enough to do _small talk_.

“Not that good, to be very honest. I was away in Dubai for couple of weeks trying to close out a potential investor from oil and gas but it doesn’t look good right now. The market is way off.”

Otabek nods. “I have been hearing about. We are not affected much, thankfully.”

“Yuri did mention you guys expanding here and in St. Petersburg. So that means business has been really good then.” Michiel smiles around his mug, leaning his elbow at the other end of the bar.

Yuri settles to the neutral territory of the stool right in the middle of the breakfast bar. He goes through phone, pretending to be unaffected by the most awkward small talk this kitchen has ever witnessed.

“Most of the actual operations and back end support are still off-shore. Olympics is coming up so the offices here will be mainly for marketing.”

“Well, that’s really how you guys should do. That’s very strategic. More visibility, do more sponsorship. And hey, if business is good and if you ever are interested in hedge fund, just let me know, alright?” Michiel is still grinning, so open and utterly charming.

Otabek gives a curt nod, “Absolutely.” Yuri stops himself from rolling his eyes at the blatant lie.

“Well, it was good catching up with you.” Michiel throws Otabek another smile before walking to Yuri. “Ida would be home around noon so… ”

Yuri squeezes Michiel’s arm, mindful of the dark look Otabek is throwing at them. “Yeah, of course. I’ll see you out.”

Yuri quickly passes by Otabek with Michiel trailing after him.

“You got all your stuff?” Yuri asks by the doorway.

Michiel reaches something from his pocket and slips a simple gold band on his own right ring finger.

Yuri doesn’t even spare it a glance.

“Yeah, I’ll see you around?” Michiel moves to kiss Yuri.

Yuri closes his eyes at the touch of their lips. “Yeah, sure. The usual, just text me. Or I call you.” He murmurs as they pull apart.

Michiel touches his cheek gently, before walking out of the door.

Yuri stands at the doorway for a good minute, trying to even out his breathing.

This is too much stress at seven in the morning.

“What time do you need to be in the rink?” Otabek asks somewhere from behind him.

Yuri sighs before walking back to the kitchen. “Around 9. David’s back. I haven’t been on ice since last week so I need to start training again or I won’t be able to keep up with him. Fucking nineteen year olds and their stamina.”

Otabek follows him back to the breakfast bar. Yuri could practically feel the intense judgement coming from Otabek like it’s a tangible force skinning Yuri alive.

Yuri grabs his forgotten mug of coffee and drinks it. “Don’t even start.”

“Yuri, he will not leave his wife for you – ”

“Holy shit, Altin, did I fucking stutter?” Yuri slams his hands on the table, throwing daggers at the other.

But Otabek wouldn’t be himself if he’ll be easily shaken from Yuri’s usual brand of hostility. “I don’t want you to get hurt anymore – ”

“Because what? You should have the monopoly of married men promising me things and hurting me?” Yuri feels the acidic bitterness burning through him. “You are a fucking hypocrite.”

“I fucked up and I am trying to amend that, Yuri.” Otabek looks downright pissed. “I am trying to make the right steps here – ”

“You kissed me and you told me that you loved me and you are leaving Lana!” Yuri yells at him, eyes brimming with hot tears.

Otabek falters and moves to touch him but Yuri slaps away his hands.

“And then next thing I know, Lana is pregnant with Ali.” Yuri wipes his snot with the back of his hand.

“Yura, I’m sorry.” Otabek looks gutted. He should be.

“If it will make you feel any better, Michiel and I know what we are doing. We are just fucking. He never promised me anything and I don’t need it.”

Yuri is tempted to storm off again and hide in his room but he’s tired. Five days ago, he has everything sorted out. He’s the uncle who spoils, who skypes weekly, and visits one every two months. He’s the friend – the best friend, the one who is loud and crass, but dependable, a constant in their lives. It’s a good plan.

And now, he’s at risk of losing them all.   

“Yuri, do you want me to leave?” He hears Otabek asks. His voice unsure and soft, like he’s afraid that Yuri will outbursts again.

Yuri doesn’t know if the question is about him leaving his place or in his life in general. The pain has been reopened, and it’s palpable but life without Otabek? It’s unimaginable.  

“Stay.” Yuri says, betraying himself once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ): I'm behind on my own writing schedule. Work has been crazy in the past week. The third chapter has already been written so it should be uploaded here by next week. But I have dismal progress with chapter four. T_T
> 
> Let me know what you think and if there's any glaring error / typos.
> 
> I'm sheldilocks in tumblr. Come yell at me about welcome to madness. FAM IM SO HYPEDDD


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri should probably love himself, among other things.

“Yuri?”

Yuri looks up at the ceiling, sighing.

David kneels right next to his lying figure on the ice. “Is this it?” David whispers, careful.

Yuri glances at him, lifting an eyebrow. 

“Is this finally it?” David asks, face solemn. “Is old age finally coming to you?”

Yuri rolls his eyes. “Shut up.” He slowly stands up, shaking the ice off him. He can feel every muscle on his legs tight, almost trembling.

Yuri’s demonstrating a quad salchow-triple toe-loop jump combination when he fell on his quad salchow for the third time today and he just… collapsed on the floor, giving up entirely.

His quad salchow! Yuri was born doing a quad salchow!

David glides around him.  “Yuri, it’s okay! I won’t tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me, Coach!” David winks before doing a perfect camel spin. What a fucking show-off.

That earns him a middle finger from Yuri. “Go stretch, you brat. It’s already past five.”

He doesn’t wait for David to reply to him; he skates straight to the barrier.

Yuri’s too distracted with a million of things running through his head that he jerks back when his skate blade guards are suddenly thrusted to him.

“Jesus Christ – you, asshole!  Don’t sneak up on me!”

Otabek shrugs, “Sorry.”

Yuri snatches the skate blade guards from Otabek, refusing to look at him as he puts them on. “What are you doing here?” Yuri’s intended it to sound angry but it comes out as a whine.

“You left without your car again this morning. I thought I’d pick you up.” Otabek leans on the barrier, arms crossed.

Yuri sure did. ‘Cause he’s a weakshit motherfucker.

These past few days have been _wild_. With his temper, you’d assume but he doesn’t have any pent-up aggression left but nope, he is quite surprised himself. It’s like he’s been possessed by some ghost of bitterness incarnate.

It’s ugly, shameful, and everything Yuri is not.

So Yuri, unable to process his emotions like a normal functioning adult, sneaks out of his own condo after that another embarrassing moment of weakness while Otabek’s in the shower.

For years, competitive skating was the perfect outlet for all this excess fury. He throws himself to work, pushing for his body what is normally impossible. He has killed himself numerous times to win, to achieve perfection in every aspect of his profession.

Before there was simply no time for himself to compartmentalize these emotions. There’s a new choreography to learn, a jump combination to practice, and a competition to win. Every disappointment and betrayal were shoved deep within himself, fueling his metaphorical engine to pull off the version of Yuri Plisetsky has molded himself as.

He also has limited his attachment to most people because he has been left to almost nothing, after gambling his affection to the wrong people – his mother, the vague theory that he has sperm donor somewhere out there, and, yes, Otabek. Even sexual intimacy is simply a means to an end. He flirts to bed someone. It’s all a game driven by biology.

However, his grandfather was the exception to rule, and Yana and Ali are next on the list. They are his anchor. Yuri would kill for them.

But here’s the current holy trinity of facts: his grandfather is gone, competitive skating could no longer be a distraction, and Otabek is back in his life for unknown reason. And this leaves Yuri completely out of his element.    

And apparently processing all these emotions and deep seated bitterness takes a toll to his body, enough for him to keep on popping and falling on his jumps.

“I saw that last jump combination. Are you hurt?” Otabek asks.

“What do you think?” Yuri snaps at him as he stalks towards the bench. “David! I said go fucking stretch! We are done for the day!” He yells to the rink.

David raises a palm up. “Five minutes! I’ll just do the step sequence one more time!”

Yuri waves him off. It’s a decent choreography but Yuri is not sure if it’s good enough to get a podium finish in the Olympics. David and himself have a lot of work to do and seriously, it’s a lot more overwhelming when it’s not just your name on the line but also the future of someone else. Someone who has so much potential. Yuri absolutely cannot afford to get distracted right now.  

Otabek sits right next to him and Yuri wants - no, he needs to bolt out, fast.

Yuri doesn’t expect him to pretend that his emotional outburst didn’t happen. No, convenient things like that do not happen to him. But at the very least, Yuri’s expecting to give him some space.

“I also want to tell you something – the Ministry called me this afternoon. Someone from the delegation can’t come to Calgary this Monday. They’re asking me to join the Kazakhstan delegation.” Otabek huffs out, frowning.

Yuri groans to his hands. “Are you serious? I thought you already quit your cushy, token job in the Ministry?”

With the Prime Minister as your father-in-law plus you are a world renowned figure skater it is inevitable that Otabek Altin would become the face of the Ministry of Culture of Sports alongside some other equally decorated boxers. Granted, Otabek has lead remarkable sports-based youth programs, put in place solid scholarships, and ice skating in Kazakhstan has become more prevalent under his tenure. Honestly, Yuri is proud of him but that doesn’t mean he can’t laugh at all the promotional ads he sees whenever he’s in Almaty.

There’s that one video of a shirtless Otabek, hand in hand with dozen more children in various sports kits, walking towards the sunrise. “Let’s work hard for Kazakstan’s future.” The tagline says.

It was marvelous. Yuri still has it on his phone.

“I did. But they want exposure. Or something. I’m fine with it. The team could use more sponsorship and if I am what they need to get it then a quick tour of the Athlete’s Village with some photographers shouldn’t be too difficult.”

Yuri glances at him, blinking. “I think that’s the most number of words you’ve said since you got here.”

Otabek exhales, rubbing his eyes “I don’t know what to say, Yuri. I know I am not your most favorite person in the world right now and I know you don’t want me to leave your place – and I don’t. I want to stay, Yuri. But I know you and you need a little breather from me and the trip to Calgary in two days’ time could really help you… sort out a few things. But I need to be part of the delegation. I’m sorry.”

Yuri blows out a loose stray of hair from his face. There’s a certain tightness on his chest – he’s not sure if it’s because of the physical exhaustion of a whole day off and on ice training, or because what he is feeling right now is the emotional equivalent of a death spiral.

“You are wrong.” Yuri says after a minute of silence.

Otabek blinks at him, “What?”

“I said you are wrong.” Yuri repeats, his voice is surprisingly steady. “You are still up there.”

Otabek cocks his head, confused, but remains silent.

Yuri finally dares to look Otabek. “Despite all I have said, you are still up there, even at this moment. I don’t even know why but you are still in my list of favorite people.”

Yuri stands up and stretches his arms over his head. The pull off his muscles is pleasant. “It’s not your fault I was stupid enough to have fallen in love with you when I was 18. I’ll survive.” Yuri gives him a small smile.

“Come on, David.” He calls out again. “Change your clothes then come to the office, we still need to discuss your off-ice training while I’m in Calgary!”

He walks away, not sparing a glance to Otabek.

***

As far as dramatic love confession is concerned, his was anticlimactic.

After his meeting with David, he walks out to see Otabek still waiting for him.

Otabek walks up to him taking his bag from him. “Let’s go home.” Otabek says with a quick squeeze to his hand.

The message is clear: _I’ll drop it for now. I won’t mention it unless you do._

They get some takeout, discuss the possibility that this trip to Calgary is a waste of everyone’s time as they eat in Yuri’s kitchen, and then Otabek mentions that the kids are coming to Moscow.

“Are you kidding me?” It is like someone has lifted the dark clouds over him. “When?”

Otabek smiles as he gathers the dishes. “Probably when we get back from Calgary. It’s summer so I’m thinking of enrolling Yana to Baranovskaya.”

Yuri gasps. Little Yana doing ballet!

“Beka, you better hope Yana didn’t inherit your flexibility.”

“Not everyone could have rubber as bones like you, Plisetsky.” Otabek says as he washes the dishes.

Oh, he needs to call Lilia! Ali would love the park around the corner. And he probably needs to toddler proof the condo –

“They will stay here of course.” Yuri say with no room for argument.

“Of course.” This time, Otabek smiles back.

***

Yuri is right. This is a monumental waste of time. Yuri isn’t important enough to take part to any meeting.

He doesn’t kid himself into thinking that he’s not a glorified celebrity endorser. Yeah, of course he is to a certain extent. Two-time Olympic gold medalist Yuri Plisetsky is _the_ shit. But, he’s been doing real work as well since he got assistant committee chairmanship role a year ago.

He’d expected to at least be will able to discuss much more than the athletes’ accommodation.

“Hey, are you okay?”  Karina whispers to him, as they stand idly outside the Olympus building in the University of Calgary, waiting for their bus that would take them to the nearby construction site.

Karina is a news reader for NTV who for some reason got demoted and now has the unfortunate assignment of covering the upcoming Olympics. Months before the Games would even start, she’s already dragged to do fluff pieces. Probably to compensate the utter dullness of the whole affair, she’s also been trying to get Yuri sleep with her for the past two months.

On good days, Yuri flirts back. The Olympic team does need to get good coverage – the athletes need sponsorships. But today is not a good day.

Yuri makes a non-committal sound. He’s not in the mood to play nice. There’s a storm of fury building inside him. This goddamn wind is not helping either.

He is asked to deal with the press to talk about the construction of three additional buildings in the Athlete’s village when really, he should be knocking the sense out of the IOC because of the blatant double standard on the newly released drug testing policies. Only Russia needs three testing? Oh Yuri could skin them alive.

“Here, have some gum.” Karina offers him a menthol candy, grinning. “If you are bored or feeling queasy, this should help.”

“I’m fine. Thank you.” He grits out.

The arrival of the bus saves him from a particular strong gust of wind and further small talk with Karina. There are delegates from other countries in the same bus but it’s quiet with low murmurings, like there’s a collective feeling of displeasure to being relegated to this glorified field trip.

Karina, who has the laser sharp determination of a feral cat, sits next to him. “Off the record, what do you think of the new Anti-Doping Policy?”

Before he could even start his rant, his phone vibrates.

 

 **OTABEK** (2:02 PM) **:** Don’t talk to the press about the drug testing                                                                   

 

Yuri whips around, eyes scanning the people near them. “Who else are in this bus?”

“Just Switzerland and Turkey. Why?”

Yuri narrows down his eyes at his phone.

 

 **YURI**  (2:03 PM) :ur freaking me out                                                                                                                  

 **OTABEK** (2:04 PM) **:** Huh?          

 **OTABEK** (2:04 PM)  **:** Is something wrong?                                                                                                         

 **YURI**  (2:05 PM) **:** nevermind                                                                                                                              

 **OTABEK**  (2:05 PM)  **:** Okay. We are here in the construction site already. I’ll wait for you in the parking.            

 

When Yuri finally pockets his phone, Karina is still waiting for him to answer. “So, off the record? What do you think? Shit, right?”

“OCR respects the IOC’s new Anti-doping policy.” He grits out as he resolutely stares ahead.

“Don’t be such a bore, Mr. Plisetsky.” Yuri hears her teasing.

 

Otabek hands Yuri his phone the second he alighted from the bus. “Olga sent me a video of Ali on a swing set. That’ll help you feel better, right?”

Yuri takes the phone and yes, there goes Ali who is so much bigger now, giggling as Olga pushes him up in the air.

“Oh Beka, he definitely has your nose.” Yuri exhales, in love and feeling less murderous by the second. “I can’t wait to see them.”

Otabek hums in agreement. He’s about to steer Yuri to the direction where everyone else has gone when Karina clears her throat. “Do you mind if I stick with you guys?”

Yuri feels a beginning of a migraine. “Karina, Otabek Altin. Otabek, Karina Bykov.” He gestures between the two of them.

“I may be new to the sports beat but I do know Otabek Altin of Kazakhstan. Hi, I’m Karina Bykov from NTV. I’m doing the whole road to Olympics shebang.”

Otabek takes her offered hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m glad to see that you and Yuri has maintained your tight friendship over the years.” Karina starts as they trail behind the rest of the visiting country delegation.

“He only puts up with me because he likes my kids.” Otabek says matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, I do.” Yuri agrees.

Karina smiles at them. “So how do you think Kazakhstan will fare in the Games?”

“As of today, we have 63 qualified athletes and we are hoping for good news for few more in the coming months. We have come along in terms of sports especially in winter games.”

“That almost sounds not so rehearsed.” Karina’s hand covering her mouth as she laughs.

Yuri looks at her, slightly peeved. “Otabek meant every word to what he just said.”

Yuri is about to say more but Karina cuts him “Sorry to pry though it’s literally my job description. But,” She gestures to her left ring finger, “Did you just forget your wedding ring this morning?”

“Karina, I don’t think that’s your business.” Yuri spats, scowling.

“Yuri, it’s okay.” Otabek touches him in the shoulder. “We are getting a divorce. It’s being finalized.”

“Oh!’ Karina gasps as she obviously just got the sport gossip of the year. “Is this off the record or on?”

“Karina!” Yuri can’t help but raise his voice.

Otabek grabs his wrist, trying to calm him. “Off the record, please. We will release a statement in few weeks’ time.”

Karina pouts a bit and Yuri almost kicks her in the face.

“I better not read anything about this in any gossip sites.” Yuri warns. Otabek’s hand in his wrist is warm, dulling his hostility a notch down.

“Off the record it is.” Karina gives them a blinding smile. She moves closer to Otabek and starts rambling about the Kazakhstan’s Ice Hockey team.

Otabek slips his hand to intertwine his fingers with Yuri’s for a moment before letting go.

“Yeah, I’m quite optimistic they’ll do well – ”

Yuri tries to follow the discussion about the Ice Hockey team or something but Yuri’s brain has short circuited and is failing to get back online.

Yuri stares at his hand, frowning, feeling like he just missed something important.

***

The IOC is hosting a dinner to cap off the three-day delegation conference and Yuri finds himself once again hiding from everyone. Most of the time, he has enough confidence to bullshit his way to most small talks but his head is a mess right now and if he can rarely pull off being civil to others on a good day, why would anyone think he’s fit to interact with actual official delegates of other countries when he has all these pent up aggression wonderfully infused with regret leaking from all his pores. Yuri is probably one ill-advised insult away from starting a world war.

“Can I offer you a refill?”  

Yuri rubs his temples with one hand, eyes closed. He has two options here: 1) ignore the newcomer and go back to ballroom hall, or 2) ignore the newcomer but stay here in the balcony.

Yuri looks at his empty champagne flute and he feels a weird kind of drunken vulnerability. “Fuck off, Leroy.”

And there stands Jean-Jacques Leroy in his great, pompous self, laughing. Yuri’s eyes hurt just looking at him.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” JJ moves closer to him, pouring Yuri some champagne from the bottle he probably stole.

“What are you even doing here?” Yuri eyes the other with barely concealed contempt.

“Calgary 2026 Hospitality Committee Ambassador.” He declares, arms wide.

“What? Quebec finally disowned you?”

JJ leans on the railing next to Yuri. “Eh, it’s still Canada and it’s the winter games. There’s no other option but JJ to represent Canada.”

Yuri throws him a disgusted look. “Give me the bottle, Leroy, and then leave me alone.”

“How could I do that?” Yuri feels JJ giving him a once-over. “That’s not very hospitable, you see.”

Yuri gives him a look, “JJ….”

“Why? Do you any other plans tonight?” JJ asks, sipping from his own flute.

Yuri sighs. Jean-Jacques Leroy was a mistake. A mistake that has happened several times, over the course of several years.

Yuri should really love himself.

Yuri finishes off his drink with a flourish and grabs the bottle from JJ’s hands, pouring himself more. “My plan is not kill anyone tonight but if you keep on pushing me I might end up changing my plan.”

JJ raises an eyebrow at him, “Wow, are you going soft on me, Yuri? That’s like the lamest threat you ever said to me in the past decade. Are you okay?”

Somewhere down the road, Yuri did something so incredibly terrible that he ends up in a situation where JJ is not only able to read him but is also _concerned_.

“And why the hell would you think I’ll answer that? We are not friends.”

JJ hums, bravely draping an arm around Yuri’s shoulder. “But fuck buddies at most, right?”

Yuri grimaces. “We are not even buddies. More like fuck acquaintance probably.”

A true testament of Yuri’s current mental incapacity, Yuri doesn’t move away from JJ.

“Do you want to get out of here?” JJ asks, he twirls a strand of Yuri’s hair in his fingers.

Well. Getting laid is also a good option to temporarily get rid of one’s homicidal tendency.

Yuri is already leaning to JJ, his weight heavy against the other’s side when the door suddenly slides opens with Otabek frowning, “Yuri, I was looking for you. Hey, Leroy.”

Yuri should probably feel bad by being caught fraternizing with JJ but he has lost all fucks he could give.

“Hey, dude.” JJ lets Yuri go and grabs Otabek in a man-hug. “Tried to say hi to you earlier but that chick was really all over you.”

“Yeah, of course she is.” Yuri can’t stop himself. “Once you learn that Otabek Altin is back in the market, you can’t help but just try your luck to get that Old Kazakhstan Money.”

Otabek says, “Yuri – ” the same time as JJ whistles, “Back in the market? You are getting a divorce, man?”

Otabek exhales, running a hand through his hair.

“What?” Yuri ask, challenging. “You willingly offered that information to Karina?”

“Yes, Yuri, I did.” Otabek replies with a slight pinched expression.

“Sorry to hear that.” JJ says in a rare of moment of selflessness.

“It’s a mutual decision. We have been separated for a year now.”

“A year?” Yuri suddenly feels a strong whiplash to his gut. “Why the fuck am I only hearing about this now?”

A year of skype calls, of idle mindless text conversations, the kids’ birthdays, when Lana’s father died, that one week trip to Tokyo, the three months assignment of Lana to Argentina, Otabek in China – the past year flashes before Yuri’s eyes and his tipsy irritation evolves to pure, unadulterated rage.

“You never asked.” Otabek says, raising his voice a bit.

Clueless to the tension around him, JJ slots himself back to Yuri’s side and Yuri, feeling vindictive, lets JJ drape his arm around him again. Yuri basks in the dark, piercing glare he gets from Otabek.

“Well, if it makes the two you of happy then I guess it’s for the best. Divorce not too bad, to be honest. It’s been great for me. Women are strangely attracted to a divorcee. And well, men too.” JJ offers as he pours himself more champagne, oblivious.

Yuri keeps his gaze steady, unblinking to Otabek.

“That’s good to know. Thanks, Leroy.” Otabek says distractedly. “Yuri, come on. I’ll walk you back to your room. I think you have enough to drink.”

“Oh.” JJ glances at the two of them, dropping his hand from Yuri’s shoulder. “Are you two –”

“No, Leroy. We are not. But I’ll go now. Before I do anything stupid.”

“Do you want me come with you?” JJ asks as he moves to follow Yuri but Otabek presses a palm on his chest, stopping him. “Leave him to me.” Otabek says with a lick of threat, his dark eyes focused and insistent.

Yuri is not able to hear what JJ responds as he slips out of the sliding door back to the ballroom hall. He avoids everyone in the hall as he walks out, staring ahead with quick steps.

The elevator is about to close when a hand grabs one of the door, activating the sensor to open.

“Learn to read the mood, Altin. Leave me the fuck alone!” Yuri yells at him when he joins Yuri in the empty elevator.

“No, I won’t. I have left you alone for far too long. Not now, not anymore.” Otabek replies, his voice tight.

Yuri can’t stop the full body shiver. He turns to Otabek and pushes him against the wall, one arm against Otabek’s chest, pinning him in place.

“I don’t know what games you are playing but I’m done Otabek, I’m done with you.” He hisses at him, before moving away.

“Please don’t say that. We will talk about this when you are not drunk – ” Otabek tries to grab his hand again and Yuri slaps it away.

“For one year you kept me in the dark! One year, Beka, one fucking year! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want you to think I’m playing with you again!” Otabek shouts, his face drawn tight. “Unless I know for sure that we will go through it, I don’t want to tell you and change what we have. That three months you didn’t talk to me after we learned that Lana is pregnant with Ali was the hardest three months of my life. And Yuri, I did tell you, once we both decided we will push through this time.”

Yuri shakes his head, “Not about me, asshole. This is not about me! The kids! Where was Yana and Ali staying all this time?”

The elevator the door opens.

“At our house, Lana and I were just sleeping in different rooms and – Yuri, come on let’s go.”

Yuri shoulders past Otabek as he walks out to an empty corridor. As he steps out for a moment he feels shaky and confused.

“Here.” Otabek says to him as he grabs Yuri’s arm, pushing him to the other end of the corridor. Yuri yanks his arm away from him.

“Leave me alone, Otabek. Go back down to the dinner or with Karina or whoever. I don’t care, I don’t need you.”

Yuri stalks off to his room but a few steps away from him he hears Otabek say, “And who exactly do you need right now? Jean-Jacques Leroy?” Otabek says JJ’s name with so much venom that Yuri has to turn around and stare at Otabek. There he sees an almost familiar dark expression.

_Oh_

“So?” Yuri feels surge of a new energy, there’s that sudden change of power between them. It’s been a while, but it’s familiar and Yuri’s ready to play. He has gambled off all. He has nothing to lose.

“So what if I do? I fuck whoever I want.”

With quick strides, Otabek moves to Yuri’s space. “Why do keep on doing this to yourself, Yuri?”

“What, sleeping with married men?” Yuri spats to him, his eyes challenging to say more. “But he’s divorced. He’s not counted anymore, I guess.”

He sees Otabek’s face twist in a barely controlled fury. A moment passed between them, unblinking, and finally with a heavy exhale, Otabek walks towards Yuri’s room.

“Open the door.” Otabek says to him with a strange calmness.

Yuri quickly flashes his access card to the sensor and then he storms off inside. “Otabek, get out  – ”

Suddenly, the door is slammed closed and he is pinned against the back of the door, Otabek’s face inches away from him. “You are doing this deliberately.” Otabek snarls at him.

“You know I was in the condo when you brought Michiel home. You wanted me to hear him fucking you. And you perfectly know how I feel about you and Leroy.” Otabek grabs his wrists and pins it above his head.

Yuri doesn’t resist, instead he matches the intense gaze from Otabek. “I fuck whoever I want, Altin.” He licks his lower lip.

“I fucking hate Michiel and Leroy and all other men you are sleeping with.” Otabek’s voice is low, dark.

“You cockblocked me, Altin.” With his hands still pinned above him, Yuri slowly grinds his leg against Otabek’s crotch. “Are you offering?”

Otabek jerks up, his breathing erratic. “Yuri, you better stop with that before we do something you’ll regret…”

“Didn’t you hear me,” Yuri whispers to Otabek, “I fuck who I want to fuck.” He ends his statement with a long swipe of his tongue at Otabek’s jawline.

The reaction is almost immediate. Otabek surges forward and captures Yuri’s mouth in a kiss that feels more of an assault than tender.

Otabek drops Yuri hands and Yuri quickly grabs his head to fully kiss him. Otabek hands settle on his ass, easily lifting him up, and leaning him against the back of the door. Yuri wraps his legs around Otabek’s waist and grinds their crotches together.

“Bed.” Yuri says between kisses and Otabek nods before hauling Yuri to the bed with three quick strides.

Yuri is dumped on the bed and he moves to kneels at the edge, staring as Otabek removes his tie. He pushes himself up and starts mouthing at Otabek’s neck as he helps him unbutton his shirt.

As Otabek finally the pulls the shirt off, Yuri starts trailing open mouth kisses on Otabek’s chest, down to his navel. He lets his tongue travel the grooves of Otabek’s abs.

“You’re so fucking ripped.” Yuri says as he unbuckles Otabek’s belt. Otabek clumsily helps him, quickly dropping his pants.

Yuri makes a sound of appreciation as he massages the hard cock straining against Otabek’s black boxer, then he leans down, licking it over the fabric. He looks up, meeting Otabek’s eyes as he mouths and licks his fully clothed erection.

Otabek does an impatient thrust as Yuri continues to tease, grazing his teeth against the fabric while lazily fondling the balls.

Finally, Yuri pushes down the boxers and he’s treated to the sight of Otabek’s cock, glistening with pre-come. With a wicked smile, he gives the tip a quick kiss before pushing Otabek away.

“Suck me.” Yuri commands to Otabek who is gaping at him.

Yuri rearranges himself and sits on the edge of the bed, his feet on the floor. He methodically removes his pants and boxers, his eyes never straying away from Otabek’s.

“Come on, didn’t you hear me?” Yuri opens his naked legs. With his lower half naked, his slowly undoes his tie and unbuttons his shirt.

He sees Otabek looks at his face then to down to his cock before starting at his face again. Yuri’s almost thought that Otabek would refuse to take on the bait and leave him horny as fuck, but suddenly Otabek is on his knees, pumping Yuri’s cock before sucking the head.

Yuri curses loudly as Otabek licks his slit, his hands slowly but steady pumping his cock.

Otabek sucks the head again, reaching underneath to fondle Yuri’s balls. And then with a remarkable determination, Otabek slowly swallows his entire length. Yuri’s feels his eyes rolling back to his head as his cock is enveloped with that sweet, familiar warmth.

“Ahh fuck.” Yuri’s hands on Otabek’s head, trying his best to steady himself and not to face fuck Otabek.

Otabek’s eyes are closed as he deep throats Yuri and Yuri feels soul has left his body and _holy shit_ he forgot Otabek sucks cock like he skates – focused with each movement calculated to achieve specific result.

Otabek builds a pace, pulling Yuri out before sucking him again.  He does it for few more times, hallowing his cheeks.

It’s unnerving to see the usually composed Otabek Altin kneeling between his Yuri’s legs, cock on his mouth, a mix of drool and pre-cum dribbling on his chin. Yuri loves every second of it. He traces Otabek’s lips with his thumb as Otabek swallows him once again and he almost cums on the spot when Otabek hums, the vibration sending shivers to Yuri’s body.

Otabek mouths the underside, before sucking the tip, this tongue swirling on the slit. With Otabek’s hands continuously pumping him, Yuri feels the delicious build up of his orgasm, his toes curling against the floor.

All he can focus on are the loud wet sucking noise coming from Otabek and the burning warmth of his mouth.

And then like the devil himself, Otabek slowly pulls out entirely, leaving Yuri on a brink of death.

“What?” Yuri blinks as his mind tries to catch up.

When he finally looks at Otabek, the motherfucker is smirking as he lazily strokes Yuri’s cock.

“Jesus Christ – you tease!”

“You are the one to talk.” Otabek murmurs as he stands up, his hands coming up to Yuri’s waist. “Come on, move to the middle.”

Yuri lets himself be manhandled, cataloguing every brush of Otabek naked skin to his.

“You are so beautiful, Yura.” Otabek says as he leans down on him, kissing him this time slowly, Otabek’s elbows supporting his weight.

Yuri grabs Otabek hips, letting their crotch touch. With the delicious rolls his hips, Yuri catches Otabek’s lower lip as he gasps.

“Stop being a tease, come on, Beka. Come on, get the lube.” Yuri arches his neck as Otabek leaves a trail of hickeys on his throat, down to his collarbones.

With low growl, Otabek pushes himself up, “Where is it?”

Yuri whines at the loss of contact of their skin but nonetheless, he points to the general direction of an open pouch on the side table.

Otabek returns with a bottle of lube and a packet of condom. “I don’t know how to feel that you have sex travel kit.”

Yuri laughs, “Well, I know I’ll get lucky here. I was hoping to get some of those Spanish dicks –  ”

Otabek pounds on him, capturing his mouth, shutting Yuri up entirely.

Otabek kneels between Yuri’s open legs. Yuri feels Otabek worming a hand between them, maneuvering him a bit to get in the right angle, and until at last, he feels Otabek’s fingers tracing his rim.

Yuri bites his own thumb as Otabek pops the bottle of lube opens, squeezing some into his hands.

Wordlessly, Otabek pushes a finger in. He twists it inside a bit, before slowly stroking in and out.

After a minute, he slips in the second finger, working it, and Yuri feels the wonderful burn of being stretched as Otabek scissors his two fingers.

Otabek’s other hand trails Yuri’s chest, fingers teasing his nipples, twisting and pulling, then moving slowly downwards caressing the smooth skin of his solid, flat abdomen until it settles above Yuri’s cock.

“You asshole.” Yuri cries out in frustration as his leaking cock is being blatantly ignored. Starving with more stimulation, he openly fucks himself back to Otabek’s fingers, chasing that orgasm that was denied to him earlier.

“Uh huh.” Otabek says, still with that douche smirk.

Otabek slowly caresses the skin around his cock, not touching it, as he continues finger fucking of Yuri.

“Enough, enough, I’m good, fuck me already.” Yuri gasps, as he slowly pushes Otabek’s fingers out of him. “Come, on your back. I’m gonna ride you.”

That seems to seal the deal as Otabek quickly moves further up to the bed, laying down, partly propped against the headboard.

Yuri gives Otabek’s cock a quick suck, licking the head, before straddling him, and rolling down the condom on him.

“Yuri, are you sure about it?’ Otabek asks even though he looks like he’s going to explode if Yuri says otherwise. His cock is so hard on Yuri’s hand, it’s amazing that he could think with his other head.

Yuri simply lifts an eyebrow at him, not breaking their gaze as he slathers a generous amount of lube on Otabek cock, stroking it a bit before he moves, positioning the tip to his entrance.

“I fuck who I want to fuck.” Yuri says pushes the cock inside him until he bottoms out.

“Ahh shit, you’re so big, beka.” Yuri gasps as he adjusts to the stretch.

He slowly moves up and goes down again, testing if he’s ready to move. After a while as he builds a pleasant rhythm and he feels Otabek thrusting up to him.

With his legs supporting him, he balances himself with one hand on Otabek’s chest, the other on his thigh. He arches his back, his head thrown back as he fucks himself onto Otabek’s cock, meeting all his hard thrusts, shamelessly riding him. Yuri adjust a bit and then in the next thrust Otabek’s cock hits his prostate and Yuri sobs in white hot pleasure. “Oh fuck yes, there oh god, Beka.”

Otabek, with his relentless thrusting, starts stroking Yuri’s cock.

“You make me feel so good, Yura. Ahh yes... so tight.” Otabek murmurs as pushes himself up, sitting up, wrapping an arm around Yuri.

Yuri moves his arm to Otabek’s shoulder, pushing himself away, and he rolls his hips, making Otabek’s cock inside him hit all the right places. In response, Otabek sucks on Yuri’s neck, bruises blossoming on the sensitive skin, as he continuously pounds Yuri.

“Grab tight, kitten.” Otabek says before grasping Yuri’s ass, lifting him, careful that his cock will not slip off inside Yuri. He flips them over with Yuri on his back.

Otabek looms above him, his hands caressing Yuri’s side. Yuri sighs at the gentleness of it, complete contrast of how hard he is fucking Yuri “You are unreal – you don’t know what you do to me.”

Yuri feels every muscle on his body tight as he receives every long, hard thrust from Otabek. He feels impossibly big inside Yuri, and Yuri misses this. Misses the feeling absolute of abandonment as Otabek completely owns every single part of him, consuming him completely.

“Yura, oh my kitten.” Otabek says to him as he leans down to kiss him, their mouth soft against each other. Otabek reaches between them pumps Yuri’s cock. “So beautiful, my Yura.”

The combination of each thrust of Otabek hitting his prostate and his warms hands stroking him, Yuri comes with a loud cry.

Shortly, Otabek comes inside him with a loud groan.

And as Otabek kisses his neck as the both try to catch their breath, Yuri could almost convince himself that Otabek loves him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, fam! Did WTTM kill you? It sure killed me. I feel so #blessed. YOI fans are so spoiled with all these official content. I hope WTTM will be enough to fuel me until the movie. *__*
> 
> Alright, so I'm posting this a day earlier because I'll be busy for the rest of the work week and I'm not sure if I'll have the time in the coming days. Huhuhu I knew this would happen to me. I have barely made any progress with the next chapter so I'm not sure when I'll update this but hopefully next weekend. 
> 
> Let me know what you think of this dramatic piece of shit. 
> 
> Also! Please please please let me know if there's any glaring typo / error. I am running without an official beta reader.
> 
> Lastly! Can you guys link me to some fics where Otabek and Yuri became friends when they're training under Yakov when they're kids, and you know, how they maintain their friendship throughout the years with all friends to lovers shebang? Please? Thanks! 
> 
> I'm sheldilocks in tumblr. Talk to me about Otayuri / YOI.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri and Otabek tries to communicate, the kids are alright, and there's some gratuitous stream of consciousness.

Yuri’s standing by the window, looking down at the street when he hears Otabek shifts in the bed. He looks at him briefly over his shoulder, “What time is your flight?”

Otabek sits up, hands rubbing his face. “What time is it?”

“Almost eight.” Yuri looks back to the mid-morning traffic below. In the distance, he can see a cluster of tree and sliver of a body of water. It might be a riverside park. If the wind is tolerable, he can probably squeeze a walk before he checks out of the hotel.

The sound of rustling of sheets echoes and a moment later he hears soft steps padding towards him.

“My flight is at 11:00 AM.” Otabek says, the voice distant, almost strange to Yuri’s ears despite the mere feet between the two of them.

“Okay.” Yuri replies, his eyes still on window, arms tight around his own torso, his fingers gently tracing silk of his robe.

“We need to talk.” There’s a lift of determination in Otabek’s tone. Yuri is almost lured to the promise that somehow everything can be miraculously fixed with just a conversation.

Yuri spares the view one more glance before walking towards the small seating area. “I got a call from your mother this morning and a message from Olga. Lana isn’t back until next week so it’s just the kids and Olga that’ll be travelling to Moscow on Friday.”

Otabek blinks, not bothering to mask the confusion from the off tangent subject. “Yeah, Lana did message me about it yesterday.” He says when he finally recovers. “Some doctor backed out of an upcoming medical mission. It’s a quick trip in Uzbekistan and she’ll go to Moscow directly after the mission.”

Yuri nods at it, vaguely, understanding but doesn’t comment further. “Do you want to get room service before you go?”

Otabek follows him, “I can cancel it. I’ll take the same flight as you.”

Yuri flips through the food selection with practiced ease. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Yuri.” He hears Otabek exhales. There’s a certain tightness in Otabek’s voice that Yuri’s been hearing a lot for the past couple of weeks.

Yuri simply looks at him, gaze stern. “Do you want a full breakfast? or just Continental shit?” Give him some credit. Yuri’s been playing this goddamn game for years.

“I’ll get what you are having.” Otabek says after a beat of silence. “I’m in no hurry. Look, I’ll just book the same flight as you –.”

Yuri grabs the phone, “Hi, yeah. Room 1210. Can we have one continental breakfast and then an order of pancake with a side of sausage – yeah juice is fine. And seasonal fruit as well. Yeah – alright, thank you.”

Yuri puts that phone back to the cradle. “It should be here in 30 minutes. I’ll just take a shower.”

Otabek quickly grips his wrists, his hand warm, almost burning Yuri’s skin. “Yuri, please. We need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Beka.” Yuri slowly grits out.

There’s a quiet exhaustion Yuri can feel, seeping through his bones. It’s the type of exhaustion that can’t be remedied by a night’s sleep but it’s the kind that he can ignore, go through his day, but he knows he’ll crash soon enough. That’s almost an alluring promise.

Otabek shuts his eyes, shaking his head. “No, no. I have been putting on hold this conversation but last night – ”

“Is just sex.” Yuri cuts him.

Yuri sees the second it hit Otabek. It’s subtle but Yuri knows him enough to see pain he has inflIcted.  

“Please, no. It’s not just that. You know that.”

Yuri moves Otabek hands off his hand. “Don’t get me wrong. I don’t regret it. I wasn’t drunk or anything.”

“I don’t regret it as well. I want this for the long run – ”

“Stop.” Yuri finally snaps.

Yuri can live with all the consequences because, honestly, there’s no one else to blame. They’re both consenting adults. But Yuri has to draw a line somewhere. Yuri’s not sure if this is self-preservation. He’s afraid there’s nothing left to preserve or salvage.

“Whatever you are planning to say, shove it. I don’t want to hear it.”

“But it’s the truth.” Otabek never looks helpless; he is always firm and grounded. But for this instance, Yuri could humor himself and pretend that there’s a crack in the mask. “We need to talk about this.”

“Listen up, asshole. You might not be wearing your wedding ring anymore and you might be separated with Lana for god knows how many years now but you are still married to her and you have kids. And don’t get me wrong, I’m no hypocrite. Last night we had sex, it’s not the first time. And you know what? My poor excuse of morals could live with that. You are no different with all other guys I have been fucking. But if you are going to sputter any nonsense about this being more than sex then get out of my room.” He spats, glaring, pointing to the door. 

“Until you have sorted everything out, there’s nothing to talk about. We fucked, that’s it. We live in two different countries. I have my own life. You have yours. Those two crosses only because of our shared experience as athletes, our friendship or whatever this is, and your kids. That’s fucking it.”

Yuri soaks in the myriad of emotion Otabek’s typically stoic facade has managed to show. It takes every ounce of his resolve stand on his ground.

“Please don’t make this anymore as complicated as it is. We need to  – ”

“No, Otabek. I’m not making this complicated. You are the one with commitments.”

That seems to shut him up. Otabek presses his lips together, his brows furrowed.

Yuri waits – a part of him hoping a bigger fight from Otabek but the other remains tight lipped, and Yuri could almost see the thousand and one scenarios playing inside his head.

“Are we done? Then, I’ll take a shower, we will eat breakfast, and you will catch your flight today. I’ll see you in the condo in couple of days.”

And indeed three days later, Yuri does come home to Otabek on a top of a ladder, in the middle of living room, changing the light bulbs of the chandelier.

Yuri doesn’t own a ladder.

“Three were busted and then I replaced all with LEDs.” He answers Yuri’s unsaid question.

Yuri narrows his eyes at him. “Are you going to replace all the bulbs in the condo with LED?”

“Mostly done. Last is your room.” Otabek replies, focusing back to unscrewing a bulb.

“Suit yourself. What’s for dinner?” Yuri says as he dumps his luggage to the hallway and goes to the kitchen.

“I ordered pizza. Should be here in few minutes.”

Again and again, Yuri and Otabek has proven that aside from figure skating, there’s another thing that they are both exceptionally good at: maintaining the status quo, and pretending they haven’t fucked things up.

*** 

Yuri chews his lower lip as he watches David tries to do the step sequence of his short program. The flow doesn’t look good. David is underrotating his triple toe-loop and seems to be favoring his left leg.

Clicking his tongue, he stands straight from where he’s previously leaning forward on the boards. He makes a quick note on his phone for the stretches and off ice training for David.

He’s in the middle of typing a quick message to Georgi if he can recommend another sports doctor to look at David when he gets a message from Otabek.

 **_They’re here_** _,_  the message says with an attached photo of Otabek awkwardly crouching on the floor with Yana tiptoeing by his side and Ali on his arms, all three with eyes crinkling and smiling brightly at the camera.

 **Yuri** (4:04 PM) : Ok! Let them rest. ill be home by 6                                                                                                                                          

 **Otabek** (4:04 PM) : We will pick you up. See you in 30 minutes                                                                                                                         

 **Yuri** (4:08 PM) :don’t be stupid let the kids rest ill see u uys later                                                                                                                    

 **Yuri** (4:08 PM) : *guys                                                                                                                                                                                      

Yuri is about to remove his skate blade guard to join David on the rink when his phone rings. 

“Dyadya.” A small voice whines as soon he answers. “Dad says he’ll enroll me to ballet school here in Moscow?”

Yuri signals David from across the rink, his palm up, soundlessly mouthing “Let’s take five.”

“Yes, honey. You did ballet two years ago, right? And you really enjoyed it. We will get you a new tutu and everything. Don’t you like it?”

He hears that distinct overdramatic sigh he has missed. “I do. But dyadya, I can’t! Ballerinas are pretty and perfect and something is wrong with me and I can’t do it -”

Yuri hears a soft voice in the background. “Let me talk to Dyadya, honey.”

“Hey.” Otabeks greets after a moment.

“What’s that all about?”

“She started – oh, yes honey yes sure honey – well, Yana doesn’t want me to say. I guess you’ll see when we get there.”

“Why don’t you guys go straight to the condo? Aren’t they tired?”

Otabek exhales and Yuri could almost see that tight twist on his face that he usually reserves to his offsprings. “Tiring them out is the plan. If we go home now, they’ll just end up napping and screwing up their sleeping time when they wake in the middle of the night. I need them to adjust to the timezone.”

“Well, okay then. I’ll see you in an hour, yeah?”

“Yeah, or less. Bye, babe.”

Yuri feels his stomach drop. “Wha –?” But Otabek has already hang up.

***

Half an hour later, the door on the far right below the bleachers opens, with a running toddler leading a small group into the main rink.

“Hey you, big boy.” Yuri runs up, scooting Ali up.

He’s grown in the past two months since Yuri last seen him. The slope of his eyes with the ever promise of mischief, his small nose – he’s the mirror image of a young Otabek.

“Dyadya!” Ali snuggles to him and – oh, Yuri knows this pout too well. “Borrow your phone, please?”

Yuri glances at Otabek and sees the other shaking his head.

“Later okay, big boy? Don’t worry I still have your games on my phone.” Yuri says as Ali squirms on his arms, his tiny arms flailing a bit, so Yuri bends down and lets him go.

“I want to play. Please, Dyadya. Please, please, please.” Ali blinks up, scowling. Three years old and already an expert at tugging Yuri’s cold, unbeating heart.

“Ali, dyadya says later, okay? He still needs to work.” Otabek ruffles his hair. “Let’s check out the ice cream store down the street while we wait for him, okay?”

As Otabek goes through the normal rounds of negotiation with a toddler, Yuri nods at Olga as a quick greeting.

Aside from the crow’s feet, Olga doesn’t look a day older than 40, looking exactly the same since he first meet her when Yana was a newborn. She seems to enjoy taking care of the Altin kids. Or the pay is good enough for a regular visit to the dermatologist. Yuri has always been half in awe and fearful of Olga.

Olga sends him a knowing, amused look, gesturing to Yana hiding behind her.

“Yana, honey?” Yuri calls, with hands on his hips. “What is this? No kiss for me?”

With an audible sigh, Yana slowly walks up to him.

“Oh are you upset because of this? But you look so pretty. So grown up!” Yuri says poking the sides of the pink eyeglass perched on Yana’s nose.

“Ballerinas don’t wear glasses.” She explains slowly like Yuri is dumbest boy in the world, then her face crumbles in unadulterated sadness and she groans to her hand, absolutely miserable.

“Well,” Yuri says as he gently lifts her chin up and removes her hands to her face so he can look at her.

“First, there’s the thing we call contact lenses where we can ask the doctor if you can use them. Second, who cares? You are totally rocking these lenses and you could be the first prima ballerina wearing glasses. As long you keep them in place while doing all your twirls.”

Yana eyes him warily, “Okay, Dyadya.” She doesn’t sound convince. Yuri dreads the day that he’ll be finally be the uncool uncle.

“Listen to him, Yana. Dyadya used to do ballet, so he would know.” Olga adds, smiling as she fixes Yana’s hair.

“I totally am. I have the absolute authority – oof!” Ali suddenly bumps into Yuri’s side.

“Dyadya, borrow phone please.”

“Ali, come on. I’ll let you play with it later, alright?” Yuri bumps his forehead against the kid. “Your dad’s gonna get you all some ice cream.”

“Oooh, can I come?” David yells as he skates towards them. “I haven’t had any sugar in the past three months. I would give you my left kidney if you will give me an ice cream. I’m not even kidding. Actually – just let me smell it. Or throw it to me. I can absorb the sugar through osmosis.”

“No, you will not. You are also not going home until you stop underrotating your triples.” Yuri tries to glare at him but it’s kinda hard to look intimidating when you are on the ground with a toddler bribing you with Eskimo kisses so that you’ll hand him your phone.

 “David, you are looking well.” Otabek greets and Yuri can’t help but rolls his eyes. Of course Otabek would sound like a middle-aged uncle asking his estranged nephew about college when talking to his student. He means well, but yeah.

“Oh I am so much better now that the kids are here.” David beams as he balances on one leg as he puts his skate guard on.  “With the distraction, Yuri would probably stop pestering me now after training hours and I might actually get a social life.”

Yuri makes a face at him, standing up with Ali’s arms wrapped around his neck. “You are actually not that funny, you know.”

“Coach, you are not exactly the golden standard of comedy either.” David breaks into a huge fucking smile. The little shit.

“Here, let me get him.” Otabek murmurs right next to Yuri, taking Ali from Yuri again.

“Oh god, Otabek your kids are adorable. Where’s the missus?” David asks, distracted as he makes funny faces at Ali.

If Yuri doesn’t know him he would almost say that Otabek is fidgeting. “Uh – in Uzbekistan – ”

“Mama’s in a medical mission. Mama is a doctor. She’s amazing.” Yana declares with confidence. She is looking up to them, unfazed behind her glasses.

Yuri suddenly feels a bit light in the head, disoriented at the genuine pride in Yana’s voice. Yuri probably needs to process this particular…. emotion.

“She sure is, honey.” Otabek smiles at her, before turning back to David. “Yeah, In Uzbekistan for a medical mission.”

David nods, “Wow. That’s amazing. How did you land yourself a girl like that?”      

Yuri snaps out of the haze in his head just in time to reply to David. “Birds and bees, David. Do you want a birds and bees 101?”

David is about to reply when Yuri raises a palm up. “Enough small talk, we still have things to do. Let’s take five and then we will go through the routine again.”

“See what I’m saying? Paragon of fun and excitement.” David whines at Otabek. “Anyway, I’ll see you guys around. I just need to go the lockers.”

“Five minutes.” Yuri reminds him.

“I hear ya, Coach. See you, kiddos!” David waves at them before walking towards the lockers.

“He’s a good kid.” Otabek says once David is out of earshot.

Yuri shrugs, “Eh, he’s not bad. But he talks a lot, like fu – uh, fluttering a lot. Yeah.” Yuri covers his almost profanity slip-up with a barely concealed groan.

Otabek has the nerve to snicker at him. “Wow, that’s _fluttering_ at lot.”

“Shut up.” Yuri glares at him before facing the kids. “So, what do you say about ice cream, huh Ali, Yana?”

Ali raises both arms from where he is perched on Otabek’s arms. “Ice creaaam!” While Lana nods with a small smile.

Ali is twisting again so Otabek bends to let him down. He immediately runs towards the door, loudly enumerating the ice cream flavors he’s going to order. He yells chocolate with a particularly high pitch.

“I’ll follow him.” Olga sighs before jogging after the Ali.

“We will back in 30 minutes? Will you be done by then?” Otabek asks Yuri as Yana grabs his left hand with silent eagerness. She’s almost bouncing on her feet, like she wants to run after her brother and Olga.

“Yeah, should be. Just one more run through. I just need to see his jumps again. I think there’s something off whenever he lands in his right foot.”

Otabek flinches at that. “This near to the Games?”

“Yeah. I’ll tell you later. Go, this little lady here can’t stand still anymore.” Yuri nudges Otabek with his elbow.

Otabek hesitates for a second before reaching out to Yuri’s hand with quick squeeze. “I’ll see you later.” He murmurs, eyes soft and warm.

Yuri stands there for god knows how long until all four of them is out of the door. His heart thundering in his chest.

“Oh they left?” David asks an eternity later – or probably just a minute or two.

Yuri nods, slowly. He’s still recovering. So much for self-preservation, huh.

“Didn’t know it was ‘bring your kids at work’ day. I should have brought Maria today.”

Yuri looks at him in horror. “You will not bring a fucking iguana to my rink.”

***

It’s half past two in the morning when the door of the guest room opens.

“Oh, still up?” Olga asks Yuri as she steps into the kitchen.

Yuri is in front of his laptop, still going through some reports and emails for the committee at the breakfast bar. He was working in his room until around midnight when he got a particularly scathing email that got him needing a change of location before he ends up thrashing his laptop. “Yeah, there’s some very angry bureaucrats fighting with some very comprehensive Olympics red tape. And guess who is stuck in the middle? Yep, yours truly.”

“That sounds terrible.” Olga smiles at him as she grabs a pitcher of water from the refrigerator. “But you seem to be enjoying it.”

“It’s nice to serve back. I was a competitive athlete for more than a decade so I guess it’s my turn to make sure our athletes are well taken care of – and I have been a delegate several times so I have an idea or two what’s bullshit and not.”

Olga sits right across him. “I thought you’d be more stressed with the pressure of working for the Olympic committee and training an athlete at the same time.”

“I’m lucky I only have one student. But yeah, I do manage to get by.” Yuri shrugs. “Can’t sleep? Is the room okay?”

Olga waves him off with a smile, dismissive. “Yeah, it’s comfortable. I just got thirsty. Ali sleeping soundly in the other bed and Yana and I share the bed, and she didn’t wake up when I got up. Mr. Altin tho… ”

Yuri can’t help but snort. “He’s fine.”

Olga stretches her neck backwards, peeking in the darkened living room, probably trying to locate the sleeping figure of Otabek in the couch.

“It is kind of funny, isn’t it. Otabek Altin sleeping on a couch.” She comments cheerily.

“Oh absolutely.” Yuri replies equally delighted.

There is a stretch of silence that goes over Yuri’s head as he signs off an email.

“You ground him.” Olga says, her voice resonates in the stillness of the room.

It takes Yuri few seconds to recover. “What?”

Olga isn’t exactly smiling but she has that warm, patient look. “Back at home, he is - the whole family is… privileged. But here, he does the dishes, he sleeps on the couch....”

Yuri flinches a bit. “Olga, I thought you like me? Why does it sound like you are telling me I’m bossing your employer around.”

Olga laughs behind her hand. Her manners are impeccable. Yuri always fears that she’ll school him whenever he as much as curse when she’s in the immediate vicinity. “I do like you and you do boss him around. But the amazing thing is that he lets you.” She ends her statement with a small smile.

“I can be really persuasive.” Yuri replies, blatantly ignoring whatever implication Olga is going at. “And I know his family loaded and well, Lana too, but he’s a grown man – he lived by himself since he was fourteen and had lived in four different countries since then, I’m sure it’s not a stretch of an imagination that he could do fairly normal chores. He’s not exactly invalid.” Yuri somehow feels like he should be defending Otabek.

Olga gives him a careful look as she drinks her water. “We are glad of your hospitality and this is such a beautiful, warm house and the kids are going to enjoy here – but,” She pauses and it seems like it’s not for her benefit, she seems to know exactly what she’s going to say, but it’s like she’s giving Yuri the way out. Yuri can cut her off and the discussion would be sidetracked.

Yuri’s too weirded out with this conversation at two in the morning to say anything.

“There’s no reason for us not to stay in a hotel –  or in one of the many properties of the Altins here in Moscow.”

“I thought the condo has been leased out – ”

Yuri trails off when Olga throws him a pointed look.

Well. He does not exactly stay up late at night thinking about the real estate properties of Otabek and his family. He assumes there’s only one condo.

“Not sure what to say, Olga. But it’s unthinkable for me to let you guys stay elsewhere. Otabek always stay here whenever he visits. And the kids too.”

 _Except when Lana is with them_ is left unsaid.

“And we do prefer to stay here. It gives the kids a sense of home away from Almaty. But he’s different here. He’s a different person when he is with you.” Olga replies, careful like each word is a loaned one.

Yuri blinks. Maybe this conversation is just a hallucination. Maybe he has finally lost it. Maybe he got an aneurism earlier when he was going through his emails, and right now his body is lying lifeless on the floor.

“He seems happy – no, he _is_ happy here. With you.” Olga says with a sense of finality. There’s no room for argument.

Yuri feels his face gets warm. It’s two in the morning and somehow, he’s eighteen fucking years old again.

“We – uh, have been lifelong friends. I – he makes me happy too. Uh, I’m glad you guys are here –  um.” Great, Yuri Plisetsky reduced as a blabbering mess.

Olga takes a pity to him as she stands up to rinse her glass. “You know how testing the past few months have been to the family. Almaty’s been…. becoming less of a home for them. Don’t get me wrong, they have been nothing but excellent parents to Yana and Ali. But Lana’s been going back and forth in Almaty and her ailing mother in Toronto and her assignments in Doctors Without Borders, and Otabek’s been focused on his business venture, and his sports programs with the ministry.”

Of course, having been desensitized with the combined wealth and power of Otabek and Lana’s families, Otabek’s growing multi-million online gambling business is treated like nothing but a mere past-time.

Yuri closes his laptop. His productivity is a myth at this point.

“Has it really been a year since they have been…” Yuri finds himself trailing off again. It’s so unlike like him to be this privy and unsure of himself but he’s chalking it up to the lethal combination of confusion and exhaustion.  

Olga faces him again, her mouth pressed thin. “Yes, officially. Or as officially they could get away with but… it’s been years before that.”

“Around this time, four years ago?” Yuri finds himself saying as avoids Olga’s eyes, opting to stare at his hands instead. He feels like laughing in the face of the grave he has dug for himself, but he mostly hates himself.

He feels a hand on his shoulder. He looks up and meets Olga’s eyes. “It’s different now.” She says with a small smile – almost full of promise, and Yuri feels a sudden heavy tug at his chest, like he wants to sob, helplessly.

“I’m going back to bed.” Olga says when Yuri doesn’t respond to her. Yuri merely nods at her in half-daze.

“Good night.” He mumbles at the retrieving figure of Olga.

It’s only when he hears the guest room’s door clicked close that Yuri finally exhales. He stares at his slightly trembling hands before standing up and gathering his things.

As he is walking back to his room, he allows himself a moment of weakness. He stands by the edge of the living room, few feet away from the couch, and watches the hypnotic rise and fall of Otabek’s chest as he sleeps.

Otabek is splayed on his back, an arm thrown at the back of couch, his mouth is open, and his brows furrowed in vague discomfort. He doesn’t exactly look peaceful but Yuri has shared bed with Otabek for far too many times than he is willing to admit and he knows this is as peaceful as Otabek could get when sleeping.

He looks young, void of the usual weariness he carries. And he looks real and attainable unlike the Otabek Altin the public knows.

Before, Yuri has a good sense of the public persona Otabek projects, but lately it’s all blurred out. But maybe it’s also unfair for Yuri to think there’s such a thing. Otabek is Otabek. He’s not fake – far from it. But before there’s noticeable difference in his intensity when dealing with and processing things privately.

Otabek is careful with his emotions to people outside his inner circle. It often comes off as stuck up but it’s mainly because he lacks the appropriate skill set of social pleasantries and he instinctively covers it with layers of filters. Few people stick around to unravel those layers and Yuri was brazen enough to do that when he was fifteen, and he was rewarded with smorgasbord of treasured moment: easy going smiles, early morning long winding discussion about the unforeseeable future, quiet moments during long bike rides, dumb drunken moments, and, above all, unquestioning companionship he is willing to break his heart for over and over again.

However, Yuri cannot find in his heart to say _loyalty_. It leaves a bitter taste to his tongue as the concept has been tainted numerous time due to misguided assumptions and unclear distinction of their boundaries. But Otabek is, without a doubt, a solid unmovable factor in Yuri’s life, and whatever shit they have and will go through – he knows that Otabek will always be in his life.

Sometimes Yuri wants to regret that fateful instance when they crossed the line of their friendship to this complicated mess of lust and miscommunication. But he can’t. He has enough self-awareness that he absolutely does not regret the shared intimacy with Otabek in those occasional stolen moments.

And in the past years, he has given up any notion that there could be more. It’s easier to convince yourself that it was nothing but an arrangement of convenience for them. Both were available, and willing. Quick and dirty. But Yuri was foolish to forget that there was a ticking time bomb. Those were stolen moments in the first place. Otabek is much larger than Yuri is and Yuri simply doesn’t have anything to offer. Nothing substantial, nothing permanent.

Yuri knows that self-loathing is an addicting vice that’s hard to quit.  But who is he compared to the people around Otabek. It’s fucking pathetic but that’s the reality Yuri didn’t realized until he was into deep. He should have known better but yeah. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. And that’s fucking fair. Yuri was stupid and vulnerable four years ago when Otabek raised his hopes only to cruelly crush it again. And that’s done. He is done. Yuri Plisetsky has been moving the fuck on.

But Otabek seems to have no intention to let him be. The past couple of weeks has left him confused and unsure with all the mix signals, and careful touches. They are skirting a dangerous territory. Sex is one thing. He can live with a no-strings attached hook-up. But the idea that there could be more? Finally? This time around? No. Just fucking, no. Yuri will not survive a fool me thrice.

With one last look to the softly snoring Otabek, Yuri crosses his living room and goes to his room.

Curling to his side, Yuri falls asleep almost immediately – steady and dreamless.

***

The next morning, Yuri is clearing up the refrigerator when Otabek comes back from his morning jog. Yuri spares him a quick glance before throwing some takeout container to the black trash bag next to him.

“Olga and Yana went to the grocery. Ali’s still sleeping. Coffee is there.” Yuri enumerates, his head back inside the freezer.

Yuri is frowning as he examines an unlabeled frozen meat before tossing it to the trash. “My food stock is such an embarrassment for an athlete.”

Otabek simply grunts as a reply somewhere behind him. He hears the drag of a chair and the clink of a mug and a spoon.

After a stretch of silence as Yuri methodically discards half of his fridge, Otabek speaks with a calculated tone:

“Yuri, what’s your plan on Friday?”

Yuri pauses and slowly turns to the other, his eyes wide. He feels the sudden rush of blood to his head, leaving him dizzy.

“This Friday… ” The words are stuck to his throat. For the past couple of years, he just vanishes unannounced. No one knows. No one remembers.

Otabek is staring back at him from where he is seated by the bar, coffee cup in his hand. He has that distinct post-workout glow, with a sheen of sweat, and he looks at home in Yuri’s kitchen, drinking his coffee, but his eyes are soft, staring at Yuri, imploring and unsure.

“If it’s alright with you, can I come? With the kids. Olga can take the day off and the four of us can – ”

Yuri blinks back to him, still unable to say anything.

“I have never visited. I just thought that since we are here we could come. If that’s okay with you.”

There’s a cacophony of rushed, unnamed emotions in his chest, leaving Yuri speechless and weak.

“Yuri?” Otabek asks again and Yuri stupidly realizes he has moved and now kneeling right next to him in front of the open refrigerator.

“With the kids? Will that be okay?” Yuri finally breathes out, letting the tension seeps away. 

Otabek gives him a nod, “Yes, of course. If you will have us. I’ll introduce them, and then maybe we can cook and eat lunch at your old place?”

Yuri knows he looks like a moron just staring at the other but everything hasn’t been happening to what he has planned. He feels disoriented yet again. Typically, changes would leave him irritated and here’s Otabek again making him feel vulnerable and out of his element. But his heart is still beating loudly and he is vainly blinking back some traitorous tears and he can’t find the energy or the reason to feel anything but hopelessly fond of Otabek at this very moment. Self-preservation be damned. Yuri Plisetsky never stood a chance to the force that is Otabek Altin.

“You… thought about this?”

Otabek slowly reaches for his hand, giving him enough time to slap away his hand if Yuri wants to. Yuri just stares as Otabek intertwines their fingers together. He feels warm to touch, almost unreal.

“I have always wanted to be here with you. Yuri, I was in the emergency room when…” Otabek trails off, squeezing Yuri’s hand.

“And I know the months after his death was a difficult time for the both of us with Lana’s pregnancy with Ali…. And I never been able to visit and I’m sorry I could never be here in the past years, and that you had to go through this day all by yourself. But Yuri, it’s different now. I’m here and I’m here until you let me. If you don’t want to talk about it or want me to say it, then please let my actions speak for me instead. Please let me and my children come to you when you visit your grandfather’s grave?”

Yuri closes his eyes for a moment, willing his nerves to calm down, before opening them and staring at Otabek, “Yes, grandpa would love that.” Yuri says, almost breathless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!! Thank you so much for the kind comments. It keeps me going. :)
> 
> There are some scenes I was hoping to include in Chapter 4 however RL keeps distracting me so I decided to post this update. This would probably need three more chapters. Really depends on characters. They really write themselves. I hope it won't take me a month to post the next one. 
> 
> Again, let me know if there's any typos or major errors. 
> 
> I'm sheldilocks in tumblr. Feel free to message me to talk about this fic or anything about YOI. <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri's no longer talking about cats and Ali is still trying to borrow Yuri's phone.

It takes a considerable effort for Yuri to get over the cognitive dissonance of this day with anything remotely pleasant. The cool summer breeze, and the soft sunlight streaming between the stray clouds above all feel like a cosmic lark at his expense.

In the hazy fog of his mind, the day his grandfather had his second heart attack mere three weeks after his first stroke, the day he and Otabek were squeezed together side by side in the ambulance – the feeling of dread reverberating and all too familiar and _just too soon again_ , the day the doctor on duty tonelessly announcing _Nikolai Dmitrievich Plisetsky, 2:25 PM_ was a day suspended in time.

There were no sounds, no words, no concept of basic human needs such as hunger or thirst, no such as thing as weather, no passing of time, and no processing of emotions. There was perhaps a pain – an emotionless agony that emerged from the shards of Yuri’s broken core. Other than that, there is nothing.

Four years later, the ghost of that pain lingers – incessant, stubborn, and in most days, Yuri finds comfort in nurturing that ache to remind himself he is no longer numb and in a way he has survived, barely but he is there, breathing, heart beating, and living in a world his grandfather isn’t.

***

The drive to Novo-Kuntsevskoye that morning was almost disconcertingly amiable with Ali’s hundred per minute questions distracting Yuri from himself. Yuri could almost fool himself what the day is all about. From the shotgun, Otabek patiently answered all of Ali’s existentialist questions and only looked at Yuri a handful of times, wide-eyed, silently begging for support. However, throughout the drive Yana had barely spoken, opting to watch the cars passed by them.

The night before, while prepping for dinner Otabek told the kids that they’re going to the cemetery to visit Dyadya’s grandfather. Ali simply asked his dad if he can wear his Ninja Turtle costume and when Otabek gave him a tentative “Maybe?", Ali quickly ran out of the kitchen, yelling for Olga to help him look for the outfit.

Yana remained quiet, giving her dad a small nod and continued arranging the plates on the table. Later, when she walked into the living room and found Yuri reading some documents on the couch, she snuggled next to him.

“I miss _Ata_.” She whispered to him softly, like it’s a secret only Yuri could know, and both of them fell asleep while watching badly Russian-dubbed Mary Poppins.

***

Yana is walking right next to him, clutching a bouquet of pink and white carnation and peonies; her young, guileless face set in an odd sort of determination. Otabek and Ali are steps behind them, with Otabek fruitlessly trying to keep Ninja Turtle-clad Ali from jumping up and down on the grave markers.

“Do you think they have met in heaven?” She asks as they navigate through the seemingly endless maze of headstones and ledgers – some perfectly maintained, most are neglected and weathered by time.

The idea of his grandfather with his complex layers of sternness and grudging affection mingling with Otabek’s father-in-law – a man born and died with power, a man feared and revered even after death is well, odd but men those age has gone through enough in life that there should be a meeting point of their x and y axis. It’s surprisingly not too much a stretch of an imagination. Well, the concept of heaven sure is.

But at the moment Yuri isn’t in the right mind to process the what-ifs of after life and mortality. “I don’t know, honey.” He offers her a small smile instead. “It would be nice if that were the case, wouldn’t it be?”

There’s a beat of silence and then: “ _Ata_ was nice to me and Ali.” She says with a huff of unsolicited defensiveness.

Yuri can’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. Seems like she isn’t that sheltered and possibly has the vaguest awareness that yeah, her grandfather was in fact not nice to everyone.

“I’m sure he was. Maybe they are up there, talking about us – their wonderful, bratty grandchildren.”

Yana pouts at that, clutching the bouquet tighter to her chest. “I’m not bratty.”

“Only half of the time, honey.” Otabek quips as he jogs to match their pace. “Let’s swap.” He says to Yuri, quickly with no room for argument, carefully handing Ali to him

With a grin Yuri is defenseless against, Otabek takes one of Yana’s hands. “Let’s go, honey. Let’s race them.”

Yuri gapes at him as he struggles with a squirming Ali on his arms. “Do you even know where the grave is?” He asks before Otabek can dash away, dragging Yana with him.

Otabek pauses mid-step and looks at him over his shoulder, eyes impossibly soft. “Yura, I was here when he was laid to rest.”

Look, this is a blatant disrespect to the dead or whatever. They’re in the goddamn cemetery for fuck’s sake. But as Yuri lets Ali go, as he runs after his dad and sister, as Yana’s small frown turn into giggles, as Otabek presses his lips against Ali’s chubby cheeks when he finally catches up to him and tugs to his dad’s pants – Yuri feels a little bit complete.

***

Otabek and the kids are already arranging their bouquet of flowers on the headstone when Yuri catches up to them.

It never gets easy. Breathing is still a difficulty whenever he’s here.

“Hey, grandpa.” He whispers as he kneels down, his fingers tracing the engraved letters on the marble.

A part of Yuri had flatlined too in the emergency room four years ago. It’s pretty obvious that he misses his grandfather. But he misses him as a whole – the concept and feelings Yuri has associated him growing up, and as snippets of memories.

He misses the feeling of home, and unconditional love. He misses not being utterly alone, and he misses his grandfather’s wholehearted acceptance.

But there are days he misses the most trivial things – the sound of his footsteps against their linoleum-covered floor, his cooking that always seem to prefer pepper over any other spice, the smell of his cheap tobacco, and the way his gruff voice would say, “Yura, are you eating properly?”

“Dyadya, don’t cry.”

Yuri blinks back to reality and notices the steady stream of tears down his cheeks. Ali is tugging his sleeves, his eyes big and unwavering.

“Oh.” Yuri quickly stands up, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands. “Oh dear. Sorry.”

Before Otabek can even speak, Yuri already feels his warmth near him. “Can I touch you?” Otabek asks and Yuri turns to him a beat too late, blinking.

“Can I?” He asks again and Yuri finds himself nodding, and then Otabek’s arm is around his shoulder – Solid, warm, and Yuri melts against him.

“Nikolai Dmitrievich,” Otabek says, facing the headstone. There’s a noticeable shake in his voice that Yuri rarely hears. “I’m sorry for not being here for the past couple of years.” Yuri feels Otabek squeezing his shoulder.

“But Yura is not alone today. I bought my children today too.” He has his other hand over Yana’s head. Yana is looking at them, curious.

“Grandpa, this young lady is Yana and she’s taking ballet like I used to.” Yuri’s heart is swelling with pride. “And this noisy little boy is Ali. He was born few months after you left, grandpa. I always believe that Ali’s the little gift you gave me.”

“Who are we talking to?” Ali asks loudly and Yuri chuckles.

“Dyadya’s grandpa.” Otabek answers patiently.

“We are remembering him today.” Yuri supplies as well, smiling at Ali and Yana. “You both are family and I love you both very much and I wish you have met him but he’s no longer here, so at least I want to let him know that you guys are here with me today.”

“Are you still sad, Dyadya?” Ali asks, his face void of his usual childish mirth.

“Yes, I do miss him but you are here with me today so it’s not that bad.”

“You are not sad when you are with us?” This time Yana asks him with that same intensity Yuri often hears when she talks about her parents.

Yuri shakes his head. “No, never. You both bring me so much joy.”

“Then we will never leave you.” Yuri shudders at how much Yana’s unwavering stare is patterned after her father’s.

“Yes, that’s the plan, honey.” Otabek says to Yana, smiling, and then he’s looking straight to Yuri.

Yana breaks away from the Otabek’s hold and moves closer to the headstone. “Dear Dyadaya’s grandfather,” she announces, her voice loud and clear. “I was sad too when my grandfather died and I guess Dyadya is still sad as well. We all get less sad when we are with family. Dyadya is family and we will try to make him less sad.”

Yana turns to look at Otabek and Yuri; her bubblegum pink glasses cuts the sternness of her expression.

“It’s okay to cry. Dad and mom told me that.”

Yuri drops to his knees and envelops Yana and Ali in a tight hug that leaves him breathless. “You two are best thing that came out of my friendship with your father.” He murmurs, his heart full of inexplicable yearning. A beat later he falls into a quiet laughter as both kids struggle out of his embrace.

Still with that steel-hard intensity, Yana glances at him and Otabek, and for a split second Yuri could have sworn that he sees a flash of mischievousness.

“Dad, can I look around? I won’t go far.” She asks.

“Not too far, honey.” Otabek warns.

Yuri stands up, dusting his pants. He sees her nod at Otabek before walking away. There’s a movement and when he turns he sees Otabek crouching over the headstone, and this time he’s the one tracing his grandfather’s name.

“Sorry I wasn’t able to fulfil my promise that I would take care of Yura.”

Yuri frowns at him. Otabek stands up straight next to him, and gives him a quick glance before answering his unspoken question: “When he got discharged from the hospital after his first heart attack and I think you were out buying something, he talked to me and made me promise to take care of you and not leave you by yourself.”

There’s a pause as Yuri tries to catch up to his breathing, filtering the words, furtively sedating the thousand of bubbling emotions in his chest.

“Is that why when he died you – you told me you will leave Lana – ”

Otabek lets out a long exhale and seems to sag helplessly from the weight of the unknown.

On their side, Ali is surprisingly quiet as he peels off the dried candle wax from the ledger. Yana has indeed wandered off, quietly mouthing the quotes on the headstones of the nearby graves.

“No. I already knew at that time what I want – I guess with your grandfather talking to me, and the uncertainty of everything around you made me – well, it made me promise you something I haven’t really properly thought about. Things didn’t go as planned and it’s all on me. I’m not making any excuse. But it wasn’t a lie at the time. It’s still not a lie right at this moment either.

Otabek pauses and gives him a soft smile.

“I do love you, Yura. I think love you already when you were 15 and I did love you back when you were 18. I love you ten years ago and it’s unforgivable for hurting you and I love you four years ago, not just because you were vulnerable and mourning. I love you in all the in-betweens. I love you now, more than ever. I’m a decade late, but Yura, if you will have me, I’m here now.”

***

Yuri now lives in Patriarshiye Ponds in a condominium with a 24/7 doorman but he’s still a Cheremushki kid. Yuri’s been on survival mode since he could remember – and looking back, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Most of the soviet-era buildings in Cheremushki have been demolished over the years in favor of building newer residential compounds and their apartment building is one of last few standing in their side of the district. The courtyard in front can barely be called one but the lone oak tree still blooms every spring and Yuri has always selfishly interpreted that as a symbolism of sort about his life. The exterior of their apartment has been consistently a dilapidating mess – to ward off any burglars, the admin has said – but the interior hallways have been upgraded over the years. Upgraded might be too generous of a word but at the very least the paint in the hallway isn’t peeling off and the water is heated throughout the coldest of winters.

Yuri had opened to his grandfather the idea of selling their apartment and moving to a much better neighborhood but deep down he knew it’s not for his grandfather. Nikolai Dmitrievich Plisetsky was as terrible to adapting to change as Yuri.

It was only when his grandfather passed away and Yuri could no longer step inside the apartment without breaking down did he finally move out. He supposed he could have moved back to St. Petersburg. It was his home rink for a decade before coming back to Moscow to care for his grandfather, and his friends, friends of friends, and almost friends are there – yeah, they are all annoying but Yuri has developed tolerance for them. He has his daily routine there as well, he knows the metro and all the stops by heart, and he has a favorite hole-in-the-wall with a passable borscht and excellent caviar – but… he just can’t.

St. Petersburg isn’t home. And well, Moscow isn’t either. It doesn’t matter where he lives. Because now, home is nowhere.

***

A loud “Oh dear, you are here!” welcomes Yuri when he opens the door to his childhood apartment.

“Alekseyevna,” Yuri breathes as she hugs him, her small, bony but warm palms patting his back like he’s twelve again and in dire need of a maternal figure.

“Traffic not too bad? Oh! Otabek, isn’t it? Oh my it’s been awhile!” She greets the moment Otabek steps inside with Ali and Yana on tow.

Alekseyevna fusses over them, herding them inside “Come, come. I just finished cleaning actually – was about to head out so I’m glad you got in here before I left – oh, Yurochka, did you lose weight?”

“Uh – no, I don’t think so. Thank you for coming in here and cleaning.”

She rolls her eyes at him, “Silly, silly boy. All I do is dust off this old place. I would have come with you in the cemetery but you know,” She sighs dramatically, before turning to Otabek, explaining: “My husband also had a stroke couple of years ago and it was terrible, I can’t leave the poor guy alone for far too long – so yeah, I come here once a week to clean. And goodness my heart, I can’t believe when Yurochka told me he’s finally visiting. Come, sit down, you boys.”

They all settle down on the couch, with Yana pressed close to her father, both looking a bit overwhelmed. Ali however leaps to Yuri’s lap with his usual cry of: “Borrow your phone, Dyadya?”

Yuri presses a quick kiss on his forehead, “Later, sweetheart.” Ali make a sound of protest but stays slump over Yuri’s chest, humming some kid show’s theme song.

When Yuri looks up, he sees Alekseyevna looking at him with unabashed affection.

Alekseyevna is old, but wiry. She’s old in the same way his grandfather was that makes Yuri sick with bitterness. It’s unfair but he has little control over where his mind wanders.

“It’s been too long, dear boy.” Alekseyevna says to him with a small smile. “So glad to see you are doing well.”

Yuri feels small, his hold to Ali tightening a bit. “Yeah, I haven’t really been able to visit. It took me a while to – you know how it gets to you. It was really hard.”

“Of course, of course.” She says, giving him a toothless grin, “What do they say – ah, baby steps! Baby steps, Yurochka. But I’m also glad you kept this apartment. It makes me happy whenever I’m here - I don’t know why but I just do. Nikolai was a good friend.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t make myself let this place go. I just need – it helps me. Knowing that there’s a place I can go back to. I know grandpa isn’t here anymore, but. Yeah.”

Yuri is too much of a coward to sell this old apartment. He knows it’s probably unhealthy. But with all the shitty things that has happened to him, maybe he can be selfish with this and cling to the memories when life was less shitty.

“Oh, Yurochka, you silly boy.” Alekseyevna visibly softens but doesn’t say anything anymore. Instead she turns to look at the rest of them, giving them another show of her toothless smile.

“Have you eaten lunch? You can come over to my place, I’m sure I can cook for your brood. And look at these adorable children – they do look exactly like you, Otabek! How is your wife and oh, there’s a newly opened Kazakh community hall down the block and they have this monthly meeting and we went there one time and oh dear, heavens above! The food was amazing. I think it was horse meat!”

Yuri feels the most amused schadenfreude as Otabek looks mortified with the sudden attention he is getting.

Otabek clears his throat, “Uh, thanks. Glad you like the food – uh.”

Yuri takes pity and decides to save him, “For lunch, we are good, Alekseyevna. We got some groceries and we will cook. Thank you for the offer though – I do miss your cooking. And thank you for cleaning the apartment as always.”

“Don’t thank me that much, you do pay me, you silly boy. But ah, so good to see you both!” She looks at Otabek again, her face softening, “Thank you so much for always being there for our dear Yura and Nikolai. You were a great help when – well, you know.”

Otabek nods at her, “It was nothing. Nothing at all – I love them both.”

Yuri feels a bit nauseous hearing Otabek drop those words causally.

Alekseyevna’s brows rise at that. She gives them both an uncharacteristic silent glance before breaking into a smile, letting it go. God bless her.

“Well, I’m glad Yurochka has a person like you in his life – Oh my look at time, I really have to go Yurochka!”

She quickly goes around the room, like an elder sprite of thunder, gathering her coat and small purse.

“Do drop by later before you leave, okay?” She hugs him one more time and Yuri lets himself be vulnerable for moment. When she pulls back, she pats his cheeks, “Don’t be a stranger, you silly boy!”

“I will not, I promise.” Yuri replies, feeling a little faint.

She gives Ali and Yana another round of hugs and hair petting and quick remarks of _such behaved children, adorable, adorable! Ah I miss my own grandkids!_ before dashing out of the door.

Otabek collapses back on the sofa and Yuri laughs at his shell-shocked expression.

“She’s still a handful, isn’t she?” Otabek wonders aloud, staring at the ceiling.

“Yeah, but at least she likes you.” He teases as he brings the grocery bags to the small kitchen.

Yuri doesn’t hear if Otabek responded anymore. He starts pulling the pans out of the overheard cabinet to prepare for lunch. After few minutes, he glances back at the living room and sees Otabek touring the kids around the small place, pointing at some of the framed pictures of Yuri, and some of his medals.

***

There’s a gap in his memory. Yuri vaguely remembers Otabek murmuring soft words to him the day his grandfather died, as they both stood outside the emergency bay, Otabek telling him to stay there and that he’d be back soon. It was only a few hours later when Yuri’s finally in front of the casket that he realized everything has already been sorted out – the viewing, the burial, the hospital bills, the paperwork.

No one tells you that. When someone dies, people focuses on the loss, the emotion, the memories – all the intangibles. But behind all that, there are doctors refusing to sign death certificates, the excruciating process of informing relatives and friends, the non-callbacks of the insurance company, the boxing and sorting of clothes and all other assortment of things that up until 48 hours ago were still useful.

In the chaos of everything, Yuri never really had the chance to thank Otabek.

On the early morning of the third day of the viewing, Yuri collapsed due to days of not sleeping and eating.

It was probably the first time Yuri saw Otabek cry.

“Yura, please be strong. I can’t lose you too. I’m here; I won’t leave you.”

Yuri can still remember the whisper of acid bitterness on his tongue when he spat out: “You left me once, Beka. You all leave. No one ever stays for me.”

Otabek pulled him to his chest, “Yura, no. I love you – let me take care of you. I’ll – I’ll leave Lana.” He pulled back and Yuri was helpless against the crazy, desperation in Otabek eyes. “I love you, Yura. I love you so please, live. Live for me.”

Yuri did live.

Two days after the burial, Otabek went back to Almaty with a promise he’d be back and that they’d figure out things soon.

After a week of radio silence, Yuri got a videocall at nine in the morning. Otabek didn’t waste his time and went straight for the kill. He opened their conversation tearfully saying: Lana is pregnant and he just can’t and that Yura, please I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry –

That was the second time Yura saw Otabek cried.

Yuri only answered his calls again after Otabek messaged him that it’s going to be a boy and Yuri realized that he is helplessly weak at the idea of a frowny little boy with Beka’s odd demeanor.

Turns out, Ali isn’t frowny at all, and he is the sprightliest boy ever but Yuri still love him nonetheless.

***

After lunch, while Otabek’s washing the dishes, Yuri wanders to his old room and sees Yana and Ali on his bed looking at some of his framed pictures.

“You have a cat, Dyadya?” Yana asks him when he joins them on the bed. She’s pointing at the color-point ragdoll menace sitting on Yuri’s lap on the picture.

Ah. Now Yuri feels like sobbing. “I used to, honey. His name is Potya. He’s such a cool cat.”

“Where’s Potya now?” Ali asks as he peeks over his shoulder, looking at the picture too.

Yuri swallows down a lump in his throat. He tries to even out his voice. “He’s not here anymore as well. Potya passed away not too long after my _Ata_.”

“What happened?” asks Yana.

Yuri traces that stupid face of Potya with his thumb. “Well, he was really old already and when I decided to move back to Moscow for good, he didn’t really adjust well.”

The kids hums “Aaah” at him. Ali’s the one who breaks the silence, “You don’t have a cat anymore, Dyadya?”

Yuri shakes his head, still smiling at the picture.

“Why?” Ali asks again. This time Yuri looks up, and he finally notices Otabek standing by the door, looking at them with an unreadable expression. There’s a dish towel over his shoulder, and he has folded his sleeves up to his elbows, the top three button of his shirt popped and Yuri can see a sliver of his collarbones.

“Cats and pets in general are lovely, but I wasn’t – I wasn’t really ready to get attached again. I still care for the strays I see on the road. I give them food and all. But I was really sad when Potya and my grandpa passed away.”

Yana clicks her tongue at him. “But Dyadya, I told you we are here so you don’t have to be sad. You can have a new cat now. You don’t have to be scared anymore.”

Yuri hums at that, and considers for moment. He then looks straight to Otabek, unblinking, as he answers her: “I guess so, honey. Maybe you are right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are almost there! Thank you thank you thank youuuu for those who are still reading this. I hope you all stick around as we are in the last two chapters. 
> 
> I hope the drama and exposition aren't too terrible. ): I was really hoping to have Lana debut here but I thought the flow of the chapter made it more sense to cut it there.
> 
> So Ata is Kazakh for Grandfather and Dmitrievich is my made-up patronymic of Nikolai. 
> 
> If I made any mistake with the use of the patronymic for both Nikolai and the OC Alekseyevna, please yell at me! Or any mistakes in general. 
> 
> I'm still sheldilocks @ tumblr if you want to talk to me about this fic or YOI.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another bomb, conversations, & denouement.

Vera’s voice echoes as she goes around the room. “And lower your leg. Exhale. Rest.”

Yuri feels his muscles relaxing as he slowly lowers his right leg. He breathes out, and gracelessly collapses on top of his mat.

He rarely makes it to any of Vera’s classes as they are usually smack in the middle of the week, which is a real pity. Vera doesn’t coddle. Vera commands and demands your attention, and most importantly, she has that presence that makes Yuri feel at peace with himself, that he isn’t the only one treating this yoga class as an anger management session. Yuri knows a kindred spirit when he sees one.

“That’s the end of the stretch. Good job, everyone. The next class isn’t for another hour so take your time to rest.” Yuri cranes his neck, slightly heaving, and sees Vera giving a curt nod to the rest of the class before exiting the room with quick steps.

The room erupts into a muddle of groans and occasional deliberate laughter like no one is on the brink of death. Yuri remains tight-lipped and still as he catches up on his breathing. In his head, he starts listing the things he needs to pick up at the grocery store later, trying to remember if Ali will be coming home today, and if Otabek needs the car tomorrow –

“Holy fucking shit.”

Yuri lifts an eyebrow at the person right next to him.

“I can’t believe you brought me to a yoga class to – ” Michiel pauses to exhale, “to kill me just to avoid breaking up with me.” He says between heavy breaths, his limbs extended like he’s some sweaty starfish.

He’s red and glistening all the way from his forehead down the column of his neck. He’s newly shaved, and he looks younger. Tempting, really.

Yuri drags his eyes away.

“There’s nothing to break. We are not together.” Yuri smoothly replies.

Michiel lets out a long sigh. “Yeah,” he starts as he stares at the ceiling with glassy, unfocused eyes. “That would have been a pretty savage statement but I can’t feel any of my limbs and I think my soul just left my body so yeah, sorry, no effect on me, Plisetsky.”

Yuri kicks Michiel’s thigh. “Stop being a weakass. You are not a beginner.”

Michiel groans, “But are you fucking kidding me? She’s like the Stalin of Yoga. What the hell?”

Yuri forces himself to sit up, relishing the burn of his muscles. Michiel isn’t lying though. Vera’s classes are borderline torture sessions. And that’s the fucking point.

“We did meet in a some shitty pilates class.” Yuri finds himself saying. He stops himself from visibly cringing at the obvious slip of sentimentality. That was years ago in Munich when Yuri’s choreographer was based there. The hooking up didn’t happen until Michiel moved to Moscow.

There is a beat of silence before Michiel slowly sits up. He adjusts his glasses before turning to Yuri. “So, are you aiming for some poetic justice here? All the pilates studios in the whole of Moscow closed for the week or what?”

“No.” Yuri doesn’t look at him.

“Whatever you say, this is a break-up though.” Michiel throws him a small, tired grimace. “Can we do this over food? I need sustenance if I’m going to survive muscle death and heartbreak today.”

In a different life, where Yuri doesn’t have enough hang-ups to sink a ship, and where Michiel isn’t married, then maybe… There’s a maybe. But there’s no point of entertaining that. Not now, not ever.

“Sure, pick the restaurant.” Yuri stands and offers his hand to Michiel as he struggles to follow him. “It’s a cheat day today.”

***

“And? So, what did you say when he told you that? That he loves you?”

Yuri pushes the remaining risotto to the sides of the shallow bowl. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Michiel repeats.

“Nothing.”

“Riiight.” Michiel nods absently as he finishes his pasta. “Can I just say something?”

Yuri shrugs. “Sure.”

Michiel clears his throat first before drawing his face tight, all signs of playfulness gone. “What do you think will happen to us, Yuri? After this? After we decide that we won’t hook up anymore?”

Yuri stills at that; his fork hovering over the bowl. “Michiel – ”

“You know what I think will happen?” Michiel continues, his eyes dark and focused. “We will try to redeem whatever friendship we can salvage. We will try to meet for meals for the next couple of weeks. We were friends before, right? So why not. But then slowly, we will realize we have already crossed the line and we can’t go back. Dinners get cancelled, messages take time to be read and replied to. And then we fall into an awkward acquaintance status.”

Yuri slowly let goes of his fork and leans back into his chair. He doesn’t know what face he’s making right now but Michiel is looking at him with an edge of pity. He feels naked, vulnerable in a maddening way. Yuri should be offended because he doesn’t need any sympathy – especially not from another cheating bastard but…

Yuri draws a sharp breath and glares at Michiel under his fringe.

“And you know what, that’s fair. We got into this knowing what we are doing and we are ending it in the same way – we both know that this is it for us. That’s just something we have to live with because that’s what you have decided on and what I agreed to as well. You cut and you let go. There’s no in between. So we both try to move forward.”

Michiel pauses, and Yuri is momentarily lost. Yuri should know better. He should.

“But that’s us, Yuri.” Michiel looks at him, steady and unblinking. “But you didn’t do the same with Otabek, did you? You let yourself settle on the – ”

“Fuck, Michiel.” Yuri cries out. “Don’t be an ass. I know it’s fucked up, alright? I get it.” He hisses, ignoring the prickling heat around his eyes.

Michiel lets out a laugh that sounds absolutely cruel to Yuri’s ears. “I don’t get it. What exactly do you want? Not just from him but from everyone else?”

When Yuri doesn’t reply, Michiel plows through. “Look, I’m not gonna pretend that I know your whole history with him, alright? But, jesus, you are always either miserable or excited whenever it comes to him. Your emotions are always at polar ends. Aren’t you tired? And fuck, he’s here now, and seems to be willing to give this a shot. If you really don’t want anything to do with him, you have to cut him out of your life. Entirely.”

 _Like what you will be doing to me_ is an accusation left unsaid. Yuri hears it echo between them nonetheless.

“Cut him out. Point blank, Yuri. No gray area. Or else, figure out what you want from him.”

Yuri grits out, “What? You don’t think I know that?”

Michiel rubs his eyes, leaving his glasses askew, sighing. “I don’t know if I ever loved you, Yuri, but it would be hypocritical of me to say that these past three years were just about sex. They weren’t, Yuri. At least for me.”

Michiel exhales, his eyes still shut. Yuri suddenly wants to touch him. Step back, redo this whole thing. Everything.

“You are selfless, beautiful, and everything about you is so addicting. And god, Yuri, I’m happy to take whatever you give me. If this is it for us then so be it. I’m sorry I wasn’t – I can’t be that person to heal you.”

“I don’t need healing.” Yuri replies thickly, edge of offence dripping in each word.

Michiel huffs out, “Fine. But I just want you to be happy, or settled or whatever, you know. I hate it that you can’t seem to escape Otabek’s hold on you. Whatever it is. I don’t know.”

Yuri doesn’t understand a lot of things. He doesn’t get dog people. He doesn’t know why his grandfather died even though he had complete medication, and was supposed to be recovering well. He doesn’t understand why his parents were never there. He can’t grasp the concept of a life without skating. He doesn’t get how other people can be generous with their affection and freely express their whims and their desires when Yuri simply can’t.

“You deserve to be loved, wholeheartedly.” He hears Michiel say to him, voice so tender it’s almost breaking. “Not just in bits and pieces. I am not that person. I am not able to give you that. But if Otabek can give you that, finally, then please, stop needlessly hurting yourself.”

Yuri doesn’t really understand a lot of things but when he looks up and sees the quiet desperation in Michiel’s eyes, wide and a little crazy, Yuri gets it in a way, somehow.

***

The door of the Uber closes behind him with a soft thud. Yuri gives the concierge a quick thanks as he opens the glass door of the building for him.

“Do you need help?” the concierge asks.

“No, I’m good. Thank you.” Yuri lies through his teeth as he balances his gym bag, a large brown paper bag from the grocery, and his laptop bag.

The conceirge stares at him with narrowed eyes as Yuri walks away towards the elevators.

He’s trying to cop his back pocket for his phone with one hand as the other is desperately trying to keep the paper bag upright when the elevator door opens. Yuri blinks back the surprise when a familiar waft of tea and lemongrass hits him.

He raises his head and finds himself looking straight at Lana Altin.

“Lana.” He breathes out, stunned.

“Goodness, look at you.” Lana rushes forward, her dark curls bouncing with every move, and takes the paper bag from him. “I dropped off Ali and wasn’t sure what time you are coming home. Olga is already putting him to bed so I just left. But I did text you. Did you get it?”

“No. Yes? Sorry my phone vibrated but I didn’t check yet who it was.” Yuri is still blinking. “I didn’t catch Otabek this morning before I went to the rink so I wasn’t sure if your seminar was still pushing through tomorrow. If I knew I would have come home earlier. Ugh, sorry. Beka didn’t tell me.”

Lana rolls her eyes, fondness evident. “Beka is helpless, you know that. But it’s okay, no problem.” She gives him a quick smile. “I’m glad to see you, though. I have got something for you. I left it in the kitchen.” She steps back as Yuri joins her inside the lift and presses the number for Yuri’s floor.

“Really? Is it that cheese roll I told you about before? And hey, you don’t have to carry that.” Yuri tries to take back the grocery bag but Lana slaps his hands away.

“Nope, not the cheese roll. And shush, let me help you. I don’t go to the gym just to look pretty.” Lana winks at him, grinning.

“But you do look great, Lana.” Yuri says because she does. She looks fit, her toothy smile finally reaching her eyes. Yuri is an occasional audience as her weight fluctuates over the years while she balances finishing her medical degree and residency with two young children, her ill mother, and the passing of her father.

There was one quiet moment years ago when Yuri walked into their kitchen in Almaty and saw them. It was almost two in the morning, they were talking softly as Otabek prepared her a sandwich and she drank her tea. Yuri was parched, having woken up in the terrible Almaty summer heat, but he quietly walked back to the guest room.

“Thank you,” she says and she looks 21 again, radiating. “If it’s coming from you, I’ll believe it.”

Yuri snorts, “You should. I don’t lie.”

From their reflection in the mirrored door of the lift, Yuri sees Lana looking at him with a sliver of a kind smile. “I know.”

Yuri drops his bags on the floor the moment he steps inside his apartment, quickly tracking to the guest room. He raps on the door twice before opening it slowly.

“Hey, buddy.” Yuri reaches to Ali who is wrapped in a warm blanket, his hands gripping tightly onto an iPad and his eyes hypnotized as he watches a singing train with a dance crew of automobiles. “I missed you, buddy.” Yuri murmurs, inhaling a mix of milk and lavender scent.

Lana follows him, leaning against the door, the grocery bag still in her arms. Olga rises from the armchair by the window to switch on the cove lighting. The room basks in a warm yellow light.

Ali yawns, big eyes blinking at him. “Hello, Dyadya. Where’s Dad?”

“Out late with your sister. But they’ll be home soon.” Yuri swipes an unruly curl from his forehead.

“Mmm. Okay,” Ali murmurs, turning on his side, eyes flickering to the door. “Mama.” He calls out, yawning again.

“Right here, sweetie.” Lana moves forward, patting his head. “Go to sleep, baby.”

“Will you be here tomorrow?”

Lana pauses, blinking, “No, sweetie. Mama has work. But I’ll pick you and your sister up in couple of days.” There’s a slight shake in her voice.

Ali sniffs but doesn’t say anything else, his eyes closing.

Yuri watches him fall asleep for a minute, memorizing the way his chest rises and falls, how dark his lashes are, and how his cheek presss against the soft curve of the pillow.

“You and Beka did well with your children.” Yuri comments, standing up. “Good genes and all.”

Lana chuckles as she leads the way out of the room, both of them wordlessly nodding at Olga as they close the door behind them. “Imagine carrying them for nine months and they come out looking like their father.”

Yuri takes the grocery bag from her and leaves it on the dining table. “What are you talking about? Yana has your eyes.”

“But she has Beka’s mood.” She groans as grabs a large black paper shopping bag with a familiar white lettering from the nearby counter and pushes it to him. “Here’s what I got you.”

“What the fuck?” Yuri opens it and pulls out a[ black leather baseball jacket](http://www.ysl.com/gb/shop-product/men/ready-to-wear-leather-jacket-black-and-white-leopard-teddy-leather-baseball-jacket_cod40122550ks.html#section=men_rtw), his fingers softly tracing the painted leopard at the back. “What the fuck, Lana, are you serious?”

Lana grins at him, settling on one of the dining chairs. “I follow you on Pinterest.”

Yuri clutches the jacket to his chest, eyes narrowed. “I’m not gonna give this back. I have been looking all over for this. No take back.”

Lana waves at him dismissively, “Think of it as a lodging fee as they are all staying here.”

“Fuck.” Yuri curses as he slips on the jacket, “You are the fucking best.” He stops himself from twirling but it’s an almost thing.

Lana cocks her eyebrows at him, “You are not mad at me, anymore? Beka told me you were pretty pissed off when he told you about the divorce.”

“Eh, I still hate both you fuckers.” Yuri takes the jacket off and places it back in the bag. “Do you need to go already? Want a nightcap?”

“I’ll keep you company but no wine for me.”

Yuri grabs a bottle from the wine rack. “Are you sure? You will like this merlot.” He waves the bottle, two glasses hanging from the gaps of his fingers on his other hand.

Lana breathes out a quiet laugh. “Yuri, I’m pregnant.”

Yuri looks at her for a long time, his grip tight on the bottle.

“It’s not Beka’s.” Lana clarifies as Yuri starts to feel faint.

“I need to sit down.” Yuri rakes his hand through his hair, his fingers shaking. “Was the jacket a bribe jacket? For my silence? Or a sympathy jacket? For my sanity?”

“Beka knows.”

Yuri shuts his eyes, “Yeah, okay. Divorce. Of course.” _Of fucking course._

Lana wordlessly takes the bottle from his grasp and pours him some wine. She hands him the glass with a long sigh. “So yeah, it’s a bribe jacket. Not for your silence but for you to not kill us.”

Yuri pinches the bridge of his nose and tries his best to calm down. “Lana, what the fuck?” he whispers, his voice rough. His life is rough. Everything is rough. Fuck.

Lana is about to reply but Yuri raises his hand, “You know what, I’m good. I don’t need to know.”

Yuri finishes his glass of wine in a single gulp, feeling the slight burn as it travels down to his throat. “You both stupid fuckers.”

Lana doesn’t say anything and simply watches him pour another glassful of wine.

“Do – do the kids know? Lana, what’s going to happen with the kids?” Yuri asks as he takes another swig.

Lana stalls for a moment, biting her lower lip. “We are finalizing – that’s why we are here. Moscow is a neutral territory, away from everyone. The lawyers just got here and Beka and I will sort it out in the next couple of weeks.”

Yuri sags into the chair, head thrown back, staring at the ceiling. “Tell me,” he cuts the silence. “Is this for the better? For you and Beka? And the kids?”

“It is. For us,” she says carefully. “For you, too.”

The words register with him like whiplash.

“Lana – ”

She is looking at him. Must be the fucking merlot. Yuri can’t read her. “You have been a good friend to us – especially to the kids. They love you. And I know Beka. Of all the things, you have always been a non-negotiable for him. Four years ago – ”

“Nothing happened.” Yuri cuts her out. His pulse races, his heart beating so loudly it’s almost deafening.

Lana pauses, “I’m not… accusing you.”

“Well, it feels like it!” Yuri stands, and… sways. He had a busy day and wasn’t able to grab a proper dinner. Those two glasses of wine were probably not ideal.

“Fuck.” He swears as he stomps around the kitchen to get himself some water. With his back to the dining area, he downs an entire glass of water, glaring at the tiled backsplash.

“Four years ago he told me that he loved me and that he would leave you. But then he didn’t. Life goes fucking on.” His knuckles are white as he grips the edge of the counter.

He hears Lana’s weak laugh. “Yeah, makes sense. I figured the moment he dropped everything when you called and told him your grandfather was sick. A part of me knew that he wouldn’t be coming back anymore. We were already talking about separating even before then. He came back after a few weeks, wanting to talk to me but – well, Ali. We never got to the divorce discussion but I knew it was there, on the table. Beka had to make a decision. We had to.”

“Fuck and then what, now that you are pregnant you get to decide that this isn’t for you anymore?” Yuri faces her, and he knows he’s flushed red both from the wine and the anger, and he knows he should step back. To shut up. This isn’t his business.

Lana meets his glare, steady and unrelenting. “Think what you want but I don’t owe you any explanation.”

“No, not me but the kids.”

“I know and I will, in due time.”

Yuri exhales at that, hangs his head forward, hands rubbing his face furiously. “Fuck, Lana. I don’t know what to fucking say."

“I am not here to argue.” He hears her stand up and then a second later, she’s rubbing his back. “Beka and I fucked up but we are not gonna dwell on what has happened in the past. We are both trying to do what’s right for our family, for ourselves. This might sound strange coming from me, but that also includes you, Yuri. I’m not – ” Lana laughs but it’s shaky, and Yuri refuses to look at her. “What you and Beka have, it’s up to the both of you.”

Yuri looks at her, finally, his eyes feeling wet. “Lana, I don’t know about Beka. It’s – I don’t know if I can, after everything.”

Lana hums as she leans against the counter right next to him, draping her arm around his waist, her head falling to his shoulder.

“You’ve known Beka for years. You are the only one who know what’s best for you.”

Yuri rests his head on top of hers, letting the rhythm of his breathing lull him to a strange calmness. Both of them probably look stupid, perched against the kitchen counter, staring idly at the dining room across from them. “Tell me about him – your boyfriend. Will you be okay?”

Lana’s laugh this time sounds more genuine, brighter. “His name is Luke. He’s from Canada and doesn’t know anything about Kazakhstan.”

Yuri can’t help the full body shudder. “Oh no. He hasn’t meet any of your family? Zarina?”

“Just Zarina so far.” She hums on his shoulder. “ I have been slowly trying to get him used to the whole… thing.”

“Poor guy. Are you sure he won’t bail the moment he meets your uncles?”

She detangles herself from him and leads them to the living room with a loose grip on his wrist, nicking the wine bottle and his glass on their way.

“Have a little faith in me. I am a great judge of character.”

Yuri settles on the couch, feeling light-headed. Lana bounces right next to him.

“Where did you two meet?”

She pours him some more wine, filling it almost to the brim. “He’s the local coordinator of Doctors Without Borders in Toronto. Come on, drink more. You gotta drink for me.”

“You are a fucking menace.” Yuri says but he still accepts the glass anyway. He might actually be the one coming out of this Altin Divorce with the slight alcohol problem.

“He genuinely wants to be with me, Yuri.”

Yuri might be on his way to being pissed six ways to Sunday but he still bristles at that.

“That’s shitty, Lana. Beka wanted to be with you.” He chose her. That’s ought to mean something.

“No, he didn’t,” is her quiet reply. “Don’t get me wrong, Beka did his best as a husband, as a father, he was a great support system when I was in med school and everything. But it’s not the same with Luke.”

Yuri shuts his eyes, desperately trying not to care but fuck this. His chest hurts. He’s so tired.

“Luke loves me for who I am – without the bias of who I am in Kazakhstan. He doesn’t know Dad and he doesn’t care. There’s no pressure, no one telling him that he has to be with me. He makes me feel loved, Yuri. I can’t say that about Beka.”

Yuri blows a stray strand of blonde hair away from his face. There’s a slight shake in his hand as he tips the glass to his lips, the fruity bitterness of the wine lingering on his tongue as it rushes down, making him further dizzy and unsteady.

“The moment Beka learned that I was pregnant with Yana, I became a duty, his responsibility. It’s not entirely bad but that’s not exactly a recipe for a lasting marriage either.”

“You raised two amazing children. You were good with each other,” Yuri says because it’s the truth. Whatever his personal stake in this goddamn fucking marriage is, Otabek and Lana brought Yana and Ali into his life and frankly, that’s enough for him.

Lana is shaking her head, smiling ruefully. “That means we are good at being parents but not at being married. I love Beka and maybe he loved me too. I can’t be sure. But we can’t stay married solely because of the kids. That’s not gonna sustain. We have to do this now while we can still… sort this out on good terms.”

Yuri releases the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He can still vaguely feel the incessant drumming of his pulse but it feels faraway. Maybe the wine finally has numbed him down.

“Yuri, I don’t know if for you it’s Beka, but you have got to find that person who will not just treat you as a duty, a responsibility, or simply an option. You don’t have to be secured immediately but you need to see he’s trying to do something about your doubts and insecurities. And you have got to do exactly the same to him as well. It has to be a two-way process.”

Yuri hums at that, Lana’s words vaguely registering with him, when the front door opens. Otabek trudges in with a sluggish Yana in tow. Yuri sees how Yana suddenly perks up and sprints towards her mother, rapidly telling her how her day in Experimentanium went.

However, Otabek goes straight to Yuri, sparing Lana a quick nod as a greeting. Otabek lifts an eyebrow at him and Yuri is tipsy, and confused. Brandishing a paper bag, Otabek is frowning at him, “I didn’t think you had dinner so I brought you sushi. Don’t tell me you were drinking on an empty stomach again?” In his wine-addled brain Yuri can only stare at Otabek’s dumb face with his dumb Experimentanium souvenir shirt clinging dumbly to his dumb muscles, wondering why would Lana think this dumb beautiful man needs any validation at all.

***

Yuri eyes the door warily, not moving from the dark corner of the room. Someone’s been insistently knocking on the door for the past minute.

“Sir, it’s me,” Agnes calls out but Yuri’s hands are still hovering from his laptop keyboard, unmoving. “Sir, they are gone,” she adds, voice a bit terse.

Several more seconds of silence later, Yuri hears a sound of metal clacking and gears turning, and then Agnes kicks the door open.

Yuri blinks at her.

“Sir,” Agnes says, smiling, “They are gone.”

Yuri clears his throat, diverting his attention back to his screen, and continues typing. “Good.”

A file folder is suddenly dumped on his keyboard. “It’s approved.”

Yuri slowly looks up to her, “I swear to fucking god, if you are pulling my leg, I’m going to – ”

“It’s basically committee approved,” she cuts. If Yuri peers closely enough he could swear her eyes are twinkling. “Budget just needs to see it. Igor is in Saint Petersburg but he’ll be back next week and I can set up a meeting.”

“With all the clauses?” Yuri says, still very cautious. This wouldn’t be the first time OCR fucked up his proposal. Approving only in its name but all mechanics and scope stripped away, rendering it almost useless.

“Well, not about the accredited hospitals. That was far too optimistic of you anyway.”

Yuri exhales, leaning back to his chair. “Holy shit.” His heart rate finally normalizing.

“Uh huh.” Agnes hums, flipping through her black notebook. “You got a lot of work to do. Teams need to be briefed asap. We only got five months to go.”

“You are ruining my moment,” Yuri says dryly as he starts gathering his things, dumping stacks of file folders in his laptop bag. “Are they really gone?”

“Gregor and Natalia are still in the conference room. I heard there was some conflict with the hockey team’s sponsorship.”

“It’s Bauer, isn’t it?”

“Yep,” Agnes says with a pop.

Yuri slings his bag over his shoulder, rolling his eyes. “They’re so fucking dumb.”

Agnes leads the way out of the darkened office through the narrow hallway. “Of course, they are. Everyone is dumb.”

“Damn right.” Yuri is scrolling through his phone, few messages pop out in quick succession. “Anyway, this is good news and all but I still need to talk to Natalia before we even go to Igor. It’s still her name signing this. I’m just a lackey.”

“Natalia is still there….” Agnes looks at him over her shoulder.

“Nah, I got to go. If Gregor is there, I’m pretty sure they will be there for the next three hours.”

Agnes is frowning and is about to reply, when she pushes open the door to the lobby and stops in her tracks. “Ah,” she says, throwing Yuri a look of accusation mixed with fondness. “Well, of course _you_ need to go.”

Yuri gives her a dry look. “Shut up,” he says under his breath, before breaking into a huge grin. “Hey, I thought I’d just meet you guys at the studio.”

Yana jumps to her feet and strides towards him. “We are early so Dad said we should just wait for you.”

Yuri catches Otabek staring at him, their eyes meeting. “Hey,” Otabek greets, voice reverberating, his smile barely there and Yuri is big enough of a man to admit he fucking _swoons_.

“Ready to go?” Otabek asks.

Yuri snaps out of it, and nods, still a bit distracted. “Agnes, about that meeting – ”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll send out the invite for a catch up with Natalia and then with Igor next week. Go, go. Spend time with your family.” Agnes practically shooes them away, her eyes offensively bright.

Yuri is feeling generous so he ignores her and marches out of the office with Otabek and Yana following him.

The drive to the ballet studio takes them 30 minutes longer than usual and Yuri spends the entire time braiding Yana’s hair in the backseat while talking shop with Otabek.

“There’s nothing to worry about, Yura. IOC can’t do anything about it, otherwise they look really biased against Russia.”

Yuri secures the last section of Yana’s hair with an elastic band. Yana is fidgeting in her seat, glancing to her watch every few seconds. “We need a solid PR machine to spin this though. I’m going to cut some bit – uh, I’m gonna – I’m not gonna be pleased if anyone is tested positive.”

Yuri glances at the rear view mirror and sure enough Otabek is smirking at him.

“It will be fine. It’s a solid proposal. You did great.” Otabek shifts the car to reverse, parking to the narrow spot at the back of the building.

The moment Otabek kills the engine, Yana quickly takes her gym bag and opens the door. “Dad, I’ll go ahead. I still need to change. I’ll see you and Dyadya inside.”

“Be careful!” Yuri calls after her as she dashes out. “I’m glad she really likes her class,” he adds quietly when Otabek comes to his side as they make their way to the building.

“Yeah, she does. And she likes it more whenever you come to see her.”

The Moscow branch of the Baranovskaya studios occupies the first and second floor of a contemporary mid-rise building near Tishinskaya Square. Yuri still goes here for his off ice conditioning, even now that he is retired. The studio here doesn’t resemble the one he used to go to in St. Petersburg – in place of the dark mahogany banisters, there’s an elevator with faux marble walls. Below the large window in the second floor studio, he can see a flea market every Saturday instead of the perpetually busy road in St. Petersburg. It should feel very different but the moment Yuri is in the studio with just himself and his reflection in the mirror, he is at peace. It’s not home – no, not yet, not at that stage, but it’s cutting close.

“When’s their final recital?” Yuri opens the door to the backroom. The staff merely nods at him as he goes directly to the small kitchenette and starts fixing himself and Otabek some coffee.

“Seven more weeks,” Otabek replies as he settles down in a chair.

“Oh wow, that soon? Isn’t it exciting?” Yuri places a mug in front of Otabek, sitting next to him.

He hears the last of the staff going out of the door, probably going to their respective classes, leaving Yuri and Otabek alone in the backroom.

Otabek turns to him. “Yura, I have to tell you something.”

Yuri’s face falls. This is never a good thing.

“We need to go back to Almaty.” Otabek looks pained. Yuri takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

“We need to go - the kids and myself. We just had a discussion with the lawyers this morning – that’s why I wanted to pick you up. I wanted to tell you right away.”

Yuri keeps his mouth shut and tries his darnest best to hold Otabek’s stare.

“The kids need to go to school and I have to sort out our assets as we finalize the divorce.”

Yuri is strong. Yuri fucking Plisetsky is strong. Yuri can keep it together until he is alone in the bathroom later. Yuri Plisetsky will not break down in a kitchenette of a ballet studio. Yuri is not weak.

“When? When are you guys leaving?”

“After Yana’s ballet recital.”

Yuri nods, staring as Otabek gathers their hands together. The feeling of Otabek’s thumb as it rubs circles at the back of Yuri’s hand is faint, like Yuri’s tactile sensory is suddenly impaired. Maybe all his other senses are impaired as well. “Okay.”

“Yura, please look at me. I’ll be back by Rostelecom Cup. I’ll meet you and David there.”

Yuri nods again.

“I’ll bring you to Almaty if you want but – “

“David needs to train,” Yuri replies, his voice tight.

“Yeah, and you are needed in OCR too.”

Yuri slowly extracts his hands from Otabek’s grasp and finishes his coffee.

“You don’t believe that I will come back, do you?” asks Otabek after a moment of silence, sounding a bit broken.

Yuri stands up and starts washing his empty mug. “I shouldn’t, I really shouldn’t. You don’t have to come back here, there’s no reason for you – but,” Yuri barks out a hopeless, agonizing laughter, “but I do, I fucking believe you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god thank you so much [thesameoldfairytale](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thesameoldfairytale/profile) for doing an amazing beta read on this. i love you sooo much <3
> 
> Sorry, guys. It took me almost two months to post this. I have been quite busy on a lot of things. Sadly with how things are going, it will probably take me the same amount of time before I post the last chapter. T__T But I do hope you all stick around for it. 
> 
> I am brain dead now but I hope you like this update. Lana is finally here aldkjalsfah Let me know what you think! Comments really fuel me to finish this. <3 <3 <3
> 
> Again, I'm sheldilocks in tumblr so feel free to drop me a message or an ask. Happy to have new fandom friends. <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David has girl issues. Yuri still has boy issues. Beka doesn't have any issues. But OCR has Olympic Issues.

This is not too bad. Like yeah, okay Yuri could be back in his room working on the press event for next week but this isn’t bad. He is a well-adjusted adult who is managing just fine. Interacting with other people is good for your EQ. Socializing is good. Recommended by nine out of ten doctors worldwide.  

“Coach.”

Yuri throws the Chinese coach a terse smile as she passes by them.

“David, stop pestering me. Mingle with the other skaters.”

David whines instead, “Coach… but – I’m sorry.”

Yeah, okay. Scratch that. Socializing with your own peers is good. Babysitting is not.

“Bronze is amazing, given that bad fall a month ago. There’s no point in peaking this early in the season. Full debrief is tomorrow. Now leave me alone, David.” He rattles off, bored. Absolutely bored of everything and everyone.

“Cheska told me she’ll go on a date with me if I won the Rostelecom.” David cries out, full of teenage angst and helpless naivety.

Yuri is sympathetic. He truly is. He himself is still half-full of helpless naivety. He finishes his Champagne. “David, you are an excellent athlete, full of potential, but you have the shittiest taste when it comes dating.”

“Wow,” Someone says – no, someone _snorts_. “That’s rich coming from you, Yura.”

Yuri sighs. Why has god forsaken him.

“Go away, Victor.” Yuri mutters, feeling a bone-crushing exhaustion taking over him.

Victor practically sways to their corner, draping half of himself to Yuri.

Alright. Yuri takes everything back. This is absolutely terrible.

“Vitya, I’m heartbroken.” David turns to Victor and complains, unfazed.

“Don’t you know, David,” Victor starts with terrifying brightness in his eyes, “ISU banquets are famous – ”

“Notorious.” Yuri says as he grabs a bottle of Champagne from a passing waiter.

“ – for the birthplace of numerous legendary – ”

“Idiotic.” Yuri pours himself a flute, filling it to the brim.

“ – Romances.”

“Hook ups.” Yuri bottoms it all up, like he is 18 again, and undeniably stupid.

Victor grabs David’s shoulders and they both square up like a pair drunk, giggly soldiers. “David, please ignore your coach. He’s going through a delayed quarter life crisis.”

“He hasn’t gotten laid in months, Vitya.” David mock whispers and they both turn to look at Yuri with sad eyes.

“Out.” Yuri yells and pushes David away. “Go, get drunk and woo that American skater, join a circus, or experiment with your sexuality. I don’t care. Just don’t show your face to me for the next 24 hours.”

David mock salutes at them before being dragged away by the French pair skaters to join the conga line.

Yuri stares at the hall, finding inane pleasure at the awkward interaction between too-excited, hormone charged teens, mentally exhausted, battle scarred seniors, and the empty shells of other fellow adults – those well above the competing age that have collectively decided to channel their love and frustration of the sport by destructively reliving their glory days again through a younger, nimbler, but equally stubborn human being.

“Tsk.”

Yuri almost forgets that Victor is still existing in his general vicinity, wasting oxygen.

“I don’t like this, Yuri.”

“What are you on, Victor?” Yuri exhales. Bone-crushing exhaustion alright.

“This. You, without the spitfire because of another broken promise.”

Yuri closes his eyes and mentally counts to ten. “The fuck are you on, Victor?”

Victor stands in front of him, blocking Yuri’s view of the hall.

“This is Otabek Altin written all over it. Don’t deny it.”

Honestly, Yuri doesn’t have both the mental and physical capacity to deny anymore but he doesn’t want to give Victor any further reason to gloat so he doesn’t say anything.

“Tell me, what happened this time?”

It’s infuriating how Victor still thinks Yuri’s business is still his. “Go babysit your student, Vitya.”

He can see the bespectacled Japanese junior skater in the far end of the hall, sandwiched between the Australian single skater, and one of German Ice Dancers, doe-eyed and seems to be on a brink of a nervous breakdown.

“You are my student!”

Yuri snorts out his Champagne. A decade ago that would have earn a solid ten minute yelling from him but now? Empty shell. Bone-crushing exhaustion. Yeah, maybe Victor is right. This is a delayed quarter life crisis. Now, isn’t that a humbling realization. Yuri is mere mortal susceptible to such inanities.

“No, I am not. You replaced me with a budget, Asian knock-off.”

“As a testament of my maturity, I’m going to let that unwarranted attack to my husband go.” Victor sniffs.

“Your husband can go suck my dick.” Yuri sips from his drink. “Actually, he did. Once.”

“Yuri, please. Let’s not talk about the past.” Victor closes his eyes, pained.

“Then go mind your own fucking business.”

“I would. And you know that, you did not hear a thing from me when you remained in contact with him. Everyone within six degrees of separation from you can tell how toxic that was. But it’s been years now, Yura. This is a textbook case of unhealthy fixation.”

“Wow, Vitya. This is not minding your business. Minding your business, means shutting the fuck up.” Yuri bites out, but doesn’t move from his spot. He could walk away. Literally to his room, and figuratively away from all this bullshit. But, as it has always been, his pride wouldn’t let him.

“I know Altin is supposed to be here as guest of the RSF – I saw his pass. But he isn’t – and I heard about the divorce. Did he promise anything to you? Yura, just say the word and I can probably make him a persona non grata.”

Yuri knows better but he laughs instead, cajoling. “Your clout as a washed out athlete is ridiculously incomparable to his.”

“You think so little of me, Yura.” Surprisingly, there’s an edge and fire in Victor’s word. And equally surprisingly, Yuri… well. Yuri gets it.

“You know that I don’t, Vitya.” Yuri sighs, giving up the fight.

“I do love you, Yura. And I hate it. Hate this. Hate seeing you like this.”

“Let’s not go there, okay? Zip it. No L word between us. That’s disgusting and I deny any accusation I have uttered those to you, both in sober and inebriated state.”

Victor’s face crumbles to an impressive impression of a dying mouse and half-hugs, half-drapes all over him. “Yura, you’re getting soft. I think you are drunk.”

“Yeah, I am.” Yuri mumbles, feeling the tell-tale signs of drunken vulnerability. “I am also tired, Vitya. Tired of waiting. I don’t even know what I am waiting for.”

***

Yuri knows it looks like he planned this – he is admittedly a dramatic motherfucker but he actually didn’t. He just gotten out of the shower, and was drying his hair on the couch when he got Otabek’s message. He didn’t reply – due to his depleted sense of reason among many other reasons – and was already planning go to bed and retreat for the time being like the Olympic Champion he used to be – but he panicked. Mind immediately running 500 kmph, going through conversations from the past decade in mind blowing High Definition, and failing to filter through the reality from the daydreams.  

So this is what Otabek sees as he opens the door to Yuri’s hotel room, five past two in the morning: a regrettably sober Yuri wrapped in white, fluffy bathrobe, still slightly red from the scorching hot shower he took, basked in half light coming from the lampshade, the rest of the room covered in darkness.

He sees how Otabek blinks at him, slowly. Like he’s an apparition. It’s almost funny if only Yuri’s heart isn’t thumping against his throat.

“Jesus, fuck.” Otabek curses. “You scared me.”

Yuri is slow to his feet, “Sorry.” He says as he moves to switch the lights on. “How’s the flight?”

Right. Small talk. All good.

“Uneventful.” Beka replies too quickly, still rooted by the doorway.

“I’m sorry I missed the event.” Otabek whispers, frowning – there’s no trace of visible guilt, but rather a silent fury. Addressed to whom exactly? Yuri’s not sure at this point.

Yuri flops back down the couch. “I understand.” Because of course he did. What’s not to understand.  

“And thanks for,” Otabek waves the room card key, “leaving this to the concierge.” A pause. “But I can book another room if – ”

“You just came from Toronto after weeks of dealing with your mother-in-law, and lawyers – it’s okay. Your eyes are fucking bloodshot and can barely stand up. All the hotels in the area are booked already because of Rostelecom Cup so no, get some rest tonight and we’ll figure it out tomorrow.”

Otabek stares at him, and Yuri waits. Eventually, Otabek says softly, like it’s a deniable truth. “Ex.”

“What?”

“Ex-mother-in-law. We already finalized the papers. Had to change my flight itinerary last minute and drop by Almaty to update Yana’s school.”

“Why?”

Of all the three thousand questions that flashed through Yuri’s mind, he settled on the most pressing one.

“Why what?” Otabek blinks at him.

“Why do you need to urgently let Yana’s school know? Is something wrong?”

“Security reason. Custody reason. Who can pick her up in the school, and every when, who has the authority. They’re very… strict.”

Yuri nods. Fucking international schools. “How are they?”

Otabek averts his eyes. “Yana’s adjusting… Ali, not yet. He’ll stay with me but Yana might move to Canada. After the school year.”

Yuri stares at the floor. “And Lana?”

“She’s fine – she’s doing great. Luke’s a great guy. He grounds her.”

Yuri still has at least two thousand nine hundred ninety-five questions but Otabek looks like a hollow corpse.

“Sit the fuck down, Beka.” A better man might have been able to hide the affection but everyone knows Yuri’s not even a fraction of a decent person.

There’s a split second hesitation before Otabek finally drops down next to him, leaving his duffel bag on the floor.

“I’m sorry about missing the event. I’m – ”

“A useless jerk.”

Otabek nods serenely.

Yuri feels a familiar fire starting in the center of his gravity, but he’s managing it. He can manage it. He should know better.

“You didn’t have to come.” He whispers, hands clenching his bathrobe.

Otabek takes his hand and it takes Yuri few seconds to recover from the unexpected warmth from Otabek’s skin.

Then it all comes crashing down, like a switch. Ready to fight. Yuri tries to yank off his hand from Otabek’s, the fire in him simmering in swirling maddening heat – decade old, fueled by what-ifs, and fuck-yous. It’s a little immature but Yuri still has a lick of pride left, okay? Yuri kicks Otabek’s knee, struggling away.

Otabek keeps his grips to Yura, tight. “No, Yura. I want to see you – ”

“If it’s about your promise,” Yuri cries out with a growl, “Then newsflash, asshole: I’m an expert. A pro at deflecting all your half-assed promises.”

Yuri has expected Otabek’s struggle for his hand to stop – he is annoyingly good at giving Yuri a berth when Yuri best needs it. But Otabek didn’t – he pulled his weight on – or probably his last remaining strength and stubbornly closed Yuri’s fingers between his and covered them with his other palm.

“I’m here because I miss you.” He says, stupidly earnest. Yuri swallows the curse at the tip of his tongue. “I want to see you. I’m sorry my flight got delayed – this isn’t the first time I disappointed you and I’m afraid this would not be the last – but I want to see you.” A pause and damn, Plisetsky, get hold of yourself. Otabek is still staring at him and Yuri’s shaking, his sight getting blurry. “It’s been months and I am finally – Yura, I’m here. I’m yours. I miss you.”

And there goes the waterworks.

Fucking. Hell.

“Jerk.” He sniffs between two deep mouthful of air.

It’s almost comical how Otabek suddenly freezes, gaping. “Yuri – holy fuck. Babe – ”

“Don’t fucking call me that!” Two big drop of tears rolls down his cheeks. “Victor promised me he’s gonna make you a persona non grata!”

Otabek cringes, his hand still intertwined with Yuri’s. “Don’t even kid about that, please. The bratva is not a fucking joke…” He trails off with a wince.

“I asked him to cut your balls!” Yuri yells and then he just straight up wails. He’s done. Just fucking done. He cries and cries and cries. His left hand still in Otabek’s, hair now all frizzy dry, he feels the snot mixing up with trail of his tears down his neck. It’s fucking disgusting and he should care; he has fought tooth and nail for his wall of defense but he’s just done. Done pretending he’s okay. Done pretending he is not hurt. Done pretending he doesn’t care.

Yuri cares. And that’s the truth and root of all evil. Yuri cares so much. Bone-deep, heart-clenching. He can feel it in his every breath, in his skating, from the moment he opens his eyes, to the last thought before sleeps take over him – Yuri cares. Despite everything, He’s hurt, bruised up, and shattered to pieces because he cares.   

“I don’t even know why it even matters. It shouldn’t – I don’t need you here but I still – ” a hiccup. “ – keep on hanging on your words.”

Life has given him countless opportunities to divert his life to a path with less pain, less expectation, and with higher chances of a peaceful existence. Once or twice, he did try to go to the other road. Date someone else, move to another city, not answering calls for months. But it keeps leading to the same destination – Otabek Altin and his relentless pursuit to kill Yuri’s remaining optimism to humanity.

“I want see your stupid face, I want to hear about your day, how was Toronto, Almaty, how are the kids, what did you eat – I schedule my whole fucking day around when will you call. I eat up all the attention you give me. And I’m the idiot who keeps on believing.”

“Yura, no. Please keep believing.” Otabek crowds him and hugs him, tight. Yuri loses the fight in him, and leans against him bonelessly. “It took me too long, hurt you far too long, and I don’t deserve you – or any ounce of your affection, but you are still here so everyday, I will prove to you that you did not make a mistake. Yura, I love you. Please keep believing on me – on us.”

Yuri risk a look at him and finds Otabek’s eyes glassy with unshed tears – partly because of the exhaustion, or maybe because Yuri’s not the only one worrying about this fuck-up dynamics they have.

Slowly, Yuri moves back, Otabek’s arms falling to his sides. “I do care for you, Beka – I love you. And you know that. You should. I love you in more ways than one – in different intensities over the years but not once have I stopped loving you, Beka. I’m not in the business of denying myself that. But – that doesn’t mean anything.”

Otabek’s hand is about to touch him but he stops, and sags away. “Yura – ”

“I have been loving you for years now and from an arm’s length. From a respectable distance that keeps me sane. I can still do that, Beka. I can still care for you and your kids – without this. This promise built on disappointments, and wrong decisions.”

Otabek closes his eyes, and exhales, sagging on the couch. Yuri tries to calm himself, wiping his nose to the sleeve of his bathrobe. A moment of silence passed and Yuri is half-convinced that Beka has already fallen asleep. But slowly, Otabek opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling.

“A year ago, maybe even few months ago, I would have stepped back –  and agreed with you.” Otabek finally breaks the silence. “Because you are right. Absolutely right. I know my fuck-ups. I kept you by my side – selfishly. Even when Lana was already pregnant with Yana – I was still sleeping with you – I can’t quit you. You made me feel alive. When I married Lana – and I know you are already trying to put space between us, I pushed through. Selfishly trying to still have you in my life. I savour it, Yura. Savour your friendship, your love to me and my family. Maybe, I grew complacent too – I thought that was okay. I saw how you fall into new relationships year after year. All these men, and women – getting their share of your attention. I am jealous – Stupidly possessive. I want to murder Leroy, Michiel anyone who dared to think they are worthy of you.  But you come back to me – always and – and I don’t deserve it. Not today, and not ever. Not just because I am not a good person – but also because it’s you. You’re selfless, generous, loyal, talented, - a ball of righteous fury, you are untouchable, unreal – and my friend. The most loyal one. And I don’t want to lose you. I’m afraid, Yura – so terrified.”

Otabek looks at him, sad and tired smile in his face. “But I’m sorry, I can’t step back and let this chance go. I saw Lana and Luke. Saw their happiness – saw their love. I want that too, Yura. I’m jealous – so incredibly jealous. I’m frustrated and full of so much bitterness. Not only to them – but also to all those you have been with – I want you. No one else. I want this chance for happiness with you. I want to build a life with you – and if I have to uproot my whole life, my business, everything – I would. I know it will not be easy – there’s a chance you will walk away and finally realize I don’t deserve an ounce of your attention – but I don’t care. I’m a gambler, Yuri. I built a fortune over gambling. I’m gambling everything to this – to us.”

Yuri swallows hard, looking straight to Otabek. He is still smiling at Yuri and Yuri – Yuri can’t breathe, can’t move. But he must. And he will. With the mental strength attributed to being in a non-contact competitive sport since he was six, Yuri finally wills himself to breathe and when he finally feels the blood flowing to his veins again, with warm, unnamed feelings spreading through him, he swiftly stands and yells, “Don’t follow me!” And promptly runs and locked himself in the bathroom.

The knock comes after 83 seconds. Yuri knows. He’s been counting.

“Yura, please. Let’s talk.”

Yuri looks at himself in the mirror. It looks like death has finally claimed him. Red eyes, dark circles under his eyes, a patch dry skin on his forehead, galaxy of miniscule freckles on his cheeks, dried up trails of tears and snot down to his neck, chapped lips, a storm of tangled blond hair.  He splashes water to his face and wipes with the face towel.

“I’m sorry –  ”Otabek says, “I’ll just leave if you are not comfortable – “

Yuri panics, gripping the edge of the sink. “Stay!” He cries out, voice breaking. “Just – fuck, Beka.”

There’s a thud against the door and Yuri imagines Otabek leaning against it from the other side. “Yura, please come out.” He sounds tired and Yuri almost feels bad – but:

“Beka, I’m tired. I’m tired too.”

Silence, and then: “What do you want me to do then, Yura? But please know, I won’t stop. I’m fighting this time.”

Yuri closes his eyes with an exhale. “It’s not going to be easy.”

“Yura? What? I didn’t hear you – ” Otabek yells from outside.

Yuri yanks the door open, irritated, “I said – it’s not going to be easy!”

Otabek blinks at him and then breaks into a huge smile, “Are you saying – Yura, are you giving me a chance?”

“I’m going to think about it.” Yuri glares at him.

“That’s not a no.” Otabek is still smiling.

“I’m not easy.” Yuri insists.

“Still not a no.”

Yuri huffs as he passes by him, “I’m going to string you along – I’ll break you.” He picks up his towel, slings it over his shoulder, and sits on the stool in front of the vanity table.

“I’m not going anywhere, Yuri.” Otabek says as he stands behind him, their eyes meeting in the mirror reflection.

Yuri starts doing his skin care. His life might be a mess but he sure damn well will keep his pores tight and breakouts at bay. “I’m not sleeping with you.”

“Easy.” Otabek says, shrugging.

“You are not staying with me in Moscow.” Yuri pours toner to a cotton pad, starts wiping his face – a little more vigorous than the usual.

“I already have a place – three rooms for the kids. And a minivan.”

Yuri fans his face with his hands, not looking at Otabek. “I’m going to be deliberately difficult.”

“Better than you ignoring me for months.” Otabek replies too quickly.

Yuri hums, massaging his neck with a moisturizer. He raises his eyebrows at the other, “I’m not going to stop meeting other people.” He says, challenging.

“You already broke up with Michiel, you will be too busy with the Olympics and David, and – ” Otabek smirks, far too confident like he had already thought about this. “I’m going to hover around you so much, they are going to think twice to even look at you.”

Yuri stands up, “You are so annoying – stop being too smug.” He turns around and glowers at Otabek.

Otabek’s smiles fall, his face softening. “I’m just faking it – you should know, Yura.” He grabs Yuri’s left hand and placed it over his chest. Yuri feels his heartbeat – a staccato of false bravado, eerily similar to Yuri’s.  

“I’m terrified.” Otabek says, earnest, and Yuri’s drowning, his head feels light. “I can’t fuck this up anymore. I love you and I will prove it to you until you – ”

Yuri clamps his other hand over Otabek’s mouth. “Holy shit. Shut up! Stop saying you love me! That’s so embarrassing!” Yuri feels hot and he’s probably flushed red all the way to his chest but holy fuck.

“You talk too much!” He yanks his hand from Otabek’s grasp. “Aren’t you fucking embarrassed?” He shoves Otabek back before stomping towards the bed, “I’m going to bed, asshole. Sleep on the couch. Don’t come near my bed.”

He dives to his bed, pulled the duvet over him, and curled over, knees on chest. He shuts eyes, and tries to stop his hands from shaking.

He listens to the shuffling around the room, luggage opening and closing, rustling of clothes, the bathroom door opening, the distant sound of the faucet, and the toilet flushing, more shuffling, and then finally the sound of soft padding of barefoot, nearing him.

“Good night, Yura.” Otabek whispers over him but he didn’t touch him.

Yuri slowly emerges from his cocoon of cowardness, peeking with his just eyes, rest of his face still under the duvet. He blinks at Otabek, murmuring a soft “ ’Night.”. He can’t help it. Yuri has a weakness. A very specific weakness. A targeted, well-known sore point. The cause of his inevitable death.

Otabek smiles at him, “I love you.”

“Shut up.” Yuri mock glaring at him. “You are so annoying!” He huffs and turns his back to Otabek.

The asshole actually laughs and it sounds so warm, familiar and Yuri curls back again, hands clasp together over his chest, ignoring how terrified he is over the traitorous warmth blossoming in his chest.

Tomorrow, Yuri thinks as he shuts his eyes, fights to even out his breathing. Tomorrow, when Yuri finally calms down and acts his age, they will talk. They will set ground rules. Yuri is older, smarter, and has learned from his mistakes. He’s not gonna jump to this like a fool. They will take it slow. They will plan for outcomes A – Z. Yuri’s not much a gambler, but he sure is hell of a planner.

But that’s for tomorrow. Tonight, Yuri lets himself dreams of a future with Otabek – one with quiet affection, and unwavering companionship. And maybe – maybe, Yuri can have this. Maybe, Yuri deserves this. All of this.

With Otabek’s soft snore echoing in the room, Yuri finally falls asleep with “I love you too.” reverberating in his subconscious, ready to be uttered when the day finally breaks.

 

***

 

Calgary 2026

 

Yuri has three seconds to decide. Flight or fight.

He accidentally meets the eye of the driver in the rearview mirror and the guy nods at him, possibly in acknowledgement of pity. Yuri wants to vomit but he has no choice.

He opens the door and steps out with practiced ease, and fake valor. He doesn’t stop walking, navigating through the chaos.

He almost made it to the steps when one guy in a hideous velvet vest recognized him, and yells after him in accented English: “Mr. Plisetsky – any comment on the doping scandal that involves three Russian Hockey players – ”

Right on cue, two dozen recording devices and cameras are pointed at him.

Yuri throws hideous velvet vest guy the most terrifying glare he could muster. “No comment.” He says, still pushing through the crowd.

An arm suddenly appears in front him, thrusting a cellphone to his face. She smirks at him before speaking in Russian. “You worked for the fair testing for all the athletes – you authored two policies, and made way for a renewed trust on OCR and visibility of the delegation. This is probably a huge blow to your advocacies – ”

The audacity of this woman.

“Karina, nice to see you.” He smiles, baring all his teeth, and sees how Karina visibly withers, “It is quite unfortunate but rest assured that investigation is underway.”

He turns around and addresses the cluster of media people, “Please continue supporting the rest of the Russian delegation. The OCR will be investigating this and will release a statement in due time. Thank you.”

Yuri swerves around three other recording devices and a cacophony of questions until the idiot security of the hotel finally decides to assist him to get inside the building.

The moment he is in, he leans against the nearest wall, heaving. “Fuck this. I’m resigning.”

“No, you can’t. Not until your interview this afternoon with NTV, and the meeting tomorrow with the fact finding committee.”

Agnes, clad in the most obnoxious vermillion parka, appears in front him.

“Kill me, please.” Yuri pleads, dead serious.

Agnes makes the show of scrolling through her phone, “Again, not until your interview and meeting.”

“I’m just a mouthpiece. Someone else can take over.” He whines as he sluggishly makes his way to the elevator.

The hotel lobby is littered with frantic Russians talking over each other in varying levels of distress. The whole OCR is staying here, with a number of high roller VIPs, and for once Yuri glad that he is a real nobody.

No one bats an eye as he cuts right between two people arguing over the press release for tomorrow.

“Correction: You are the pretty face. The mascot. The balm to Mother Russia’s wounds. The pride and joy.” Agnes says as she follows him inside the lift.

“No, I’m not. I’m an underpaid bureaucratic pawn.” Yuri presses the button for his floor repeatedly until Agnes swats his hand away.

“Victor should be the token figure skating spokesperson. He’s far more media savvy that I will ever be.”

Agnes wrinkles her nose. “He’s balding and peppers his sentences with Japanese phrases.”

Ah, Yuri finally remembers why he even tolerates Agnes’ insolence on a daily basis: she shares his opinion that Victor is a waste of air and other natural resources.

“Regardless,” Yuri counters, “He’s a good bait, a better distraction for the vultures.”

The lift opens and Yuri’s phone rings.

“Ah, Yuri, sir,” Olga’s voice sounds distant, “Sorry to call but quick question – is Yana’s black sweatshirt, the one with the swan at the back – did she left it in Moscow or – ”

Yuri stops in the middle of the hallway. “I bought it here with me.”

“Oh good! We have been looking for it for the past hour.”

Yuri finds himself smiling at the floor, “Everything alright?”

“Yes, we are just finishing packing and we will be on our way to the airport. We should be there in couple of hours.”

Yuri hums, “And Beka?”

Olga laughs, “Currently struggling in the baths with Ali.”

“No wonder he is not answering my messages. Tell him to call me once he’s done with Ali. I booked you guys to a different hotel – it’s chaotic where I am staying.”

“Will do. We’ll see you later.”

“Bye.” Yuri ends the call and turns to Agnes.

“Cancel all my interviews and meetings.”

“Sir – I told you, I can’t.”

“I don’t care. Tell them I’m dying of leprosy or whatever. I’m done for the next couple of days. Natalia can step up and do her job once and for all.”

Agnes narrows his eyes at him. “Be less predictable, Mr. Plisetsky, sir.”

Yuri opens the door to his room, and blocks Agnes from following him inside. “Mock all you want. But my family is on their way. I don’t give jack shit about this scandal and I will spend the next couple of days with them. And that’s the end of that.”

With a sweet smile, he closes the door to Agnes’ unimpressed face.

Otabek calls him ten minutes later, with a groan on how Ali just kicked his balls and Yuri actually laughs at that, and he then proceeds to tell Otabek in great detail the cute Calgary 2026 souvenir onesies he bought for Lana’s baby, and – _Yes_ , Yuri thinks with his heart a little bit full, yes – he deserves this happiness.

 

End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. 10 months since my last update. If you are still reading this, thank you so much!
> 
> It's 1:59 AM here and this has not been beta read so please let me know if there are any glaring typos, or errors. ZZzzzz
> 
> This is for @thesameoldfairytale. Love you, Lin. <3
> 
> Thank you for everyone for reading this fic! I have been writing fics since 2003 and this is the first time I actually finished a posted multi-chapter. lmaoo @ my character development 
> 
> But it's been an amazing journey writing Yuri and Beka, and their goddamn drama. And I can't wait for the announcement on July 1!
> 
> I'm sheldilocks @ tumblr and alloutjeje @ twitter. :)


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